Mortality
by moyoki
Summary: Antonio is the country of Spain. Lovino is, well, Lovino. Mortality is the biggest factor that separates the two of them, but will they somehow manage to overcome it? Antonio/Lovino
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Antonio is the country of Spain. Lovino is, well, Lovino. Mortality is the biggest factor that separates the two of them, but will they somehow manage to overcome it? Antonio/Lovino **

**Warnings: BL, human!Lovino**

**A/N: Don't judge the story by its summary, and assume it'll be what you think it is… I have the whole story planned out, and I probably won't be changing it anytime soon. **

-x-

Antonio rested his head on his hand, elbow propped up against the counter. He watched lazily as Francis chattered away to a blonde girl, his fingers slowly moving towards places they shouldn't be. Well, that was pretty normal.

He sighed, lifting his arm off the table. "Francis, I'm beat. I'm heading off, later man," he said lazily, not really caring for his response. If he had even heard him. He shook his head as he stepped outside the bar, the sudden gust of winter air chilling his skin. He shivered, and pulled on his jacket.

"Watch where you're going, dammit!" came a sharp voice. Startled, Antonio gazed down below him. A man was on the ground, shopping bag broken and the contents spilling across the sidewalk.

"S-sorry!" he exclaimed, quickly bending down to pick up the loose shopping. He smirked to himself; tomatoes, olives, pasta. This guy must be Italian. He held them out to the shorter man, his face barely standing out due to the darkness; only the faint neon lights of the nearby shops illuminating his features. Antonio saw deep, green eyes, much like his own.

"Bastard," he heard the stranger mutter, as he grabbed his stuff back. He gave a curt nod, before quickly heading off.

Antonio's eyes lingered on the faint figure, until it was out of sight. "Wait, I was standing still. How was it my fault he fell?" he suddenly asked himself. He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, before walking up the road, towards his apartment.

-x-

Antonio woke up the next day with a slight hangover. He groaned as he stepped out of bed, his head pounding slightly. He blinked, and noticed his phone vibrating against the wooden desk. He shuffled towards it, the bright screen temporarily blinding him.

"'ello?" he asked groggily, stifling a yawn. He noticed the digital clock read 10:35AM.

"Antonio?" came a voice on the other side. "Antonio, is that you?"

"Well it's my phone, isn't it? Who's this?" he replied, pouring himself a cup of water.

"Oh, it's me, Feliciano Vargas! I've been trying to get you all morning!" said Feliciano, his voice extremely cheerful.

Antonio swallowed the painkiller with a gulp of water. "Oh, y-yeah, about the guitar, right?" he said, suddenly remembering.

"Yup! Can I pick it up around 11?" he asked.

Antonio wasn't particularly busy, so he said whenever was fine. He hung up, and collapsed onto the sofa. He flicked the television to some Spanish news, not that he was really paying attention. He pretty much knew whatever was going on in his country at the moment. It wasn't something you could explain easily, but he just _knew. _Sort of like a gut feeling. Sort of.

There was a sharp tap at the door. "Antonio?" floated a voice. Antonio recognized it as that of Feliciano. Was it 11am already? He ran up to the door, unlatched it, and let the brunette come inside. "Ve, I'm Feliciano~" he smiled. "And this," he said, gesturing to another man, "is my older brother, Lovino."

Antonio hadn't even seen the second man enter the house. He had significantly darker hair than his brother, and vibrant, green eyes. They seemed familiar…

"Hey, you're the bastard from last night!" he said, eyes widening.

The Spaniard closed his eyes. That's why he seemed slightly familiar, he'd seen him just the night before. "Look, about that, I was standing still. There's no way it could've been my fault you fell," Antonio sighed, just in case the man decided to bring it up.

"Shouldn't have been standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dumbass," he muttered in response, earning himself a flick on the cheek from his brother.

"_Fratello_, that's rude!" pouted Feliciano, before smiling apologetically at Antonio. "Sorry, he's shy to strangers," he explained_. Fratello_? They were definitely Italian.

Antonio laughed at the younger brother's response, before asking them to wait in the main area. He entered his room, and opened the door to his wardrobe. There, amongst the few piles of clothes, was a large, black case. He pulled it out, and brushed off some dust. It was actually pretty heavy. He brought it out to the dining table, and laid it across the wood.

He unlatched the dark, leather case, and opened the lid, revealing a light, polished guitar.

Feliciano's eyes went wide. "I-it's beautiful, that's yours,_ fratello_," he said, a hint of envy in his voice.

Lovino looked at it curiously for a moment, before tilting his head to the right. "It looks really old. Are you sure it's alright for us to have it?"

Antonio laughed. "It was mine 50 years ago, I never play it and it just takes up space. I wouldn't put up an ad for a free guitar if I wasn't willing to part with it."

Lovino frowned. "Yours 50 years ago?"

Crap, his mistake. "I-my grandfather's guitar," he corrected. Damn, that was careless. He forgot for a bit that he was in the presence of humans, not his fellow countries.

"It's so sleek and shiny, it's in great condition, too," came Feliciano's voice.

Lovnio looked sideways at his younger brother. "I-if you like it that much, you can have it, I'll play something else," he suggested.

"I-I can't do that, my bass was a present from Ludwig!" exclaimed Feliciano. Lovino rolled his eyes at this comment, and made a remark on how that 'bastard's crap shouldn't be anywhere near the two of them, and that they should burn it and get him a brand-new bass.'

Antonio wasn't really one to eavesdrop, so he tuned out of their little sibling argument for a while.

Once the two were done – and Lovino finally agreed to let Feliciano keep the 'dodgy' bass, because it saved them money, brought out a few cups of coffee for the three of them. "Hope you don't mind me asking," he said, handing each man their coffee, "what are you two using the guitar for?"

Lovino nudged Feliciano, indicating that he should explain. "W-well this guy I know, his name's Ludwig-"

"He's a dick," interrupted Lovino.

"Ludwig," continued Feliciano, ignoring his brother, "and he has this recording studio. He's asked me to record a few songs," he admitted, blushing slightly. "So I'm asking my brother to take up guitar so he can play with me."

Antonio nodded. Made sense, he supposed. "How long have you been playing bass, Feliciano?" he asked.

"Um, about six or seven years," he replied happily. "But Lovino hasn't touched a guitar in his life!"

Lovino went red when he heard his brother's comment on his musical talent. He pinched his brother under the table, making him yelp in surprise.

"Wow er, do you have lessons planned then?" he asked. To play with your brother… who's been playing for years... is he some kind of prodigy with absolute pitch, or something?

"N-no," Lovino admitted, his eyes looking downwards.

"I could teach you, if you want," Antonio offered.

"I thought you said you don't play," answered Lovino.

Damn, another mistake. This kid was pretty observant, picking up on Antonio's mistakes like that. "W-well, I know how to play," he said quickly, looking away.

Lovino frowned, as if there was something about him he just wasn't getting. He narrowed his green eyes. Aside from a few weird things he said, he seemed completely normal. So why was something about him that seemed so… different?

"That's a great idea, why don't you learn from Antonio?" suggested Feliciano.

"As if I would, dammit! He looks like he's the same age as I am, and he hasn't played in so long, _as he said before, _I would rather take lessons from a professional!" frowned Lovino.

"How old are you?" asked Antonio.

"Twenty-two," replied Lovino sourly.

"Only twenty-two? Kid, I'll have you know that I'm older than your-" Antonio stopped himself just in time. He had been about to say 'older than your grandparents combined,' but that would just make no sense whatsoever. "-you, I'm twenty-five," said Antonio. Why was he being so careless today? Did he _want _to let these two humans know he was a country? Most people didn't know countries were even personified as people. They'd probably think he's mental.

Antonio would blame his almost non-existent hangover if he did somehow let it slip.

"Pssht, three years isn't old enough for you to call me a kid," retorted Lovino, feeling slightly ticked off.

Antonio just sighed. He couldn't even have a civil conversation with the kid, so he was somewhat glad on the inside that he wouldn't be teaching him. Although, he did feel sorry for the younger brother, having to wait until his older brother learnt to play. And for having to listen to that potty mouth of his.

Lovino pushed his (untouched) cup of coffee back towards the Spaniard. "Thanks for the guitar, we have stuff we need to get to," he said, turning away. He pulled his brother up. "Let's go, Feli."

Feliciano took one last gulp of coffee, before turning and giving an apologetic look towards Antonio. "S-Sorry about him, really, I am. And thanks so much for the guitar, it'll really help us! I'll send you a copy of the recording when we get around to it," he promised, before picking up the case, and following his older brother out the door.

-x-

It seemed Antonio rarely spent the day alone, as several hours after the Vargas brothers left his residence, his couch was being used by another guest. Well, was it a guest when they were at your house just as much as they were at their own?

"_Cher_, let's go out and eat something, I'm starving," came the Frenchman's voice. Antonio didn't really have anything better to do, so he just nodded and grabbed his car keys.

The car was silent as Antonio drove. Francis was gazing out the window, staring into the passing buildings. Car rides weren't always this quiet, only recently had it become like this.

How long had it been, one hundred years? Antonio lowered his head, ashamed. He couldn't even remember the exact date. And one hundred years weren't even that long when you were a country.

He pulled up into a parking space, just in front of a German restaurant, and looked over at Francis. He saw a soft look in his eyes. "This was his favourite restaurant, you know?" he said absently.

Yeah, Antonio knew. Gilbert _loved _eating here. It would often be the three of them, whether it was country stuff, food, drinking, or just generally hanging about. Then Prussia was dissolved as a country, and with that, Gilbert had vanished.

Memories started the fill the Spaniard's mind, and he quickly shook them off. It wasn't the time to get sentimental. He could also see Francis's expression, and wondered if his was like that just seconds before.

"Come on, France. You wanted to eat, right?" Antonio said, pulling the Frenchman out of his reverie.

-x-

"So," Francis began, as they waited for their food to arrive. "Did anything happen today?" he asked, with a lack of a better subject.

"Yes, actually," replied Antonio, pulling out little packets of salt from the basket. He ripped them open and poured them to make a pile on the table. "These two guys came to my house, and picked up that old guitar of mine," he said.

Francis' eyes twinkled. "Were they cute?"

Antonio laughed, and rolled his eyes. "What a Francis-y thing to say," he commented.

"Well I AM Francis, _non_?" he mused. "So, were they?"

"Eh," Antonio began. "They were pretty cute, I guess?" he replied, unsure of his own answer. "One of them was really nice, and the other a total jerk. A bit too observant, too. I slipped a few times about my age, and he kept on asking questions," he said, shaking his head.

"Ah, it's been so long, we all mess up sometimes. And the sassy ones are always better in bed, right?" Francis winked.

Antonio scoffed, and stuck his tongue out at his friend. "You would know."

The two men's eyes met, and the burst out laughing.

-x-

Lovino set the heavy guitar case onto his bed. He unlatched the silver clips, and slowly lifted up the lid. The guitar was still there, resting exactly as it had been left, all these years. He ran his finger across it, dust rubbing onto his finger. He sighed and pulled it out of the case, a cloth pulled from his pocket to dust it off, when his eye caught on a piece of paper in the case. The guitar had been resting on top of it, hiding it from view.

Curious, he unfolded the single sheet. It appeared to be the transaction for the purchase of the guitar. His eyes scanned over the text, and saw it was dated a fair while back; everything was hand-written. His eyes widened when he saw the last few words on the sheet.

"Feliciano, what's the name of the guy that gave us the guitar?" he called out.

"Er, Antonio, I think," came his brother's reply.

Lovino rolled his eyes. Antonio didn't prove anything, he could've been named after his grandfather. "Full name?" he pressed.

Feliciano entered Lovino's bedroom, the newspaper from the previous week in hand. He flipped to a page, and pointed to a box, the offer for the free guitar.

Lovino frowned as he read the words 'Antonio F. Carriedo'. This guy had the _exact_, word for word name as his grandfather.

-x-

**I don't intend for this to be a really long story, I'm kind of not sure how interesting everyone thinks it is … feedback would be nice, so I can decide whether to continue this or not.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Antonio, would you still be willing to tutor my brother in the guitar?"

"E-er," Antonio was silent. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly, before replying. "Sure, I guess? But I thought he doesn't want to…?" replied Antonio.

"He changed his mind," replied Feliciano simply.

Antonio blinked, shocked. Just the previous day, the ignorant older Italian had been dead-set on _not _learning from him. And now, he'd changed his mind.

"W-well, I guess I'm available any time, but tell him to call me before he comes, alright?" said Antonio, before hanging up.

He sighed. What did he get himself into? He would have thought about it, if he had time, because about five seconds after he hung up from Feliciano, his phone rang again. He groaned and flipped it back open. Unknown number.

"Hello?" he answered.

"'sup bastard," came a voice.

Well that wasn't very nice. "Who's this?" asked Antonio, although he had a feeling he already knew who it was.

"It's me, Lovino, dumbass. And before you ask where I got your number, I got it off that person that's my brother," came his voice.

Antonio sighed. "I guess this means that you're coming over, right?"

"Uhuh, don't think I want to, though. Everything Feliciano might have told you about me changing my mind is all bull. He's practically forcing me to, because if I don't he'll stop making pasta and I'll have to do it myself," frowned Lovino.

Antonio rolled his eyes. He wasn't really interested in their day-to-day sibling life. "Whatever, just hurry up," he said, before closing the cell phone and throwing it on the sofa.

-x-

The bus pulled up against the curb just one block down from Antonio's apartment. Lovino frowned at the scribble on the piece of paper, it was his brother's and clearly legible. After staring at it for a good minute or so, he figured he had a close-enough idea of what it said.

He climbed up the stairwell – why did Antonio live on the sixth floor? And why weren't there any elevators? – before coming to a stop. He tapped on the door, planning in his head what he _wanted _to happen. He would watch Antonio carefully while he learnt guitar; if he seemed normal, then he wouldn't investigate any more and he'd drop any of his speculations. But if he found anything suspicious, he'd keep both eyes open.

The door opened. "Ah, Lovino, welcome," said Antonio. There wasn't resent in his voice, but it wasn't exactly happy either. This was going to be a _looong_ afternoon.

-x-

Lovino pressed his fingers against the strings. The pads of his fingers were starting to burn, but this was probably all part of the experience, right?

"A little bit more to this side," said Antonio, as moved one of Lovino's fingers left. "And this is the A chord, okay? Play it," instructed Antonio, watching the Italian carefully.

Lovino scowled, and ran the pick across the strings. "You're holding it wrong now," said Antonio, readjusting Lovino's fingers on the pick. "I know it takes getting used to, but after a while it'll be natural," he explained.

While Lovino played, he couldn't help but notice how simple-minded this guy was. He was happy, and never really seemed to get mad at him, regardless of how many times he played the chord wrong. And while he played, he'd give his full attention. He wouldn't be doing something else, but rather watching him intently with those exhilarating green eyes of his.

By the time a few hours had passed, Lovino decided it was time to go home. Not to mention his fingers were burning. "Um, I'll come around maybe tomorrow, if that's okay with you," he called awkwardly, as he left the apartment. He looked back to see the Spaniard's smiling face, waving him goodbye.

"Maybe he's not too bad after all," thought Lovino, as he closed the door and climbed back down those stairs, his guitar lagging behind him.

-x-

It seemed Lovino had a natural talent for rhythm. It was a pity he kept getting his fingers too far left or right on his chords.

"You're going to need to really work on that, Lovi," said Antonio seriously. "Playing out of turn is some pretty bad stuff," and to prove his point, he took Lovino's guitar, and played a song completely out of tune. "Not too nice, huh?"

"It was terrible, _cher_," came someone's voice.

Lovino turned and scowled. This guy had been lounging on Antonio's couch the whole time Lovino had been there, and _yes, _Lovino had noticed the flirtatious looks he'd been given. He tried to ignore him, but he'd be constantly asking Antonio questions, and interrupting his lesson.

"Oh yeah, Lovino, next week I'll be away so you can't come over," said Antonio. He looked slightly tired as he said this.

"Why?" asked Lovino.

"Er, I have to go to Spain," he said awkwardly. "For work," he added.

Lovino gave him a strange look. "You work in Spain?" he asked incredulously.

Antonio shifted his gaze over to Francis. "Um, I guess you could say that," he smiled. The Frenchman's lips curled into a slight smile.

Lovino looked away. If he worked in Spain, why was he in America? That didn't make sense. He brushed it off, and began packing away his guitar. "This is from my brother," he said suddenly, tossing a box at the Spaniard's back.

"Huh?" he asked, turning around as the box glanced off his back. He bent over to pick it up, and found it to be a box of biscuits. "Tell him thanks for me," he called. The door closed.

"Antonio, you two seem to be close friends," commented Francis, getting up from his seat. Antonio glanced over at the Frenchman.

"I've only been teaching him for two weeks, we aren't really that close. Plus I can't shake the feeling that he hates me," he confessed, looking away awkwardly.

Francis smiled. "I'd say the opposite, _mon ami_," he hinted, raising his eyebrows.

"Pardon?" asked Antonio.

Francis smiled even bigger. "I'd say he quite likes you," he continued. If his eyebrows got any higher, they'd be floating off his face.

Antonio laughed, not getting Francis's hints at all. "At most, he's a friend I guess," he said, as bit into one of Feliciano's cookies.

"Are you ever going to tell him?" asked Francis, his voice suddenly serious.

Antonio paused. "Tell him what?"

Francis rolled his eyes. "What else, that we're… countries," he said softly, cocking his head to the side.

Antonio's face fell. Oh, that. The atmosphere suddenly dropped (not that he could tell, but…) and Francis eyed him, curious for his response. "I don't see why I need to, if he's just a friend…"

It was quiet for a bit, before Francis continued his point. "When years pass, he'll definitely notice the… changes in your physical appearance, won't he?"

"Or lack of, is a better term. I guess I'd have to tell him then… but it can wait, can't it? I think I can put it off for a good five years…" he trailed off. He looked down, feeing a shiver up his spine. He had a feeling of déjà vu…

Francis's eyes turned somber, as he saw his friend's expression. He too, remembered the incident before, something quite similar to this. It wasn't that humans and countries couldn't co-exist; that wasn't it at all. It was just that humans had such a short life span in comparison, so much easier for them to die…

"Well, I hope my boss doesn't take too long, he's been complaining about me living here… he wants me to go live in Spain again," Antonio laughed. Most of them lived in their own countries, but there were a few who chose to live elsewhere, although would often be called back home for work issues. "I should really be packing, feel free to do whatever you want," he said to Francis, before leaving to his room.

Francis closed his eyes, shaking his head. "He really is an idiot…"

-x-

Lovino's phone beeped twice, indicating a text message. He flipped open his phone, and found it to be from Antonio.

_From: Antonio Carriedo_

_Hi Lovino, I'm back in the US. Come over when you feel like it_

Lovino found himself smiling slightly, quite unintentionally. It'd been a week since he'd last seen the cheerful Spaniard, and not that he'd missed him – okay, maybe a bit, but he was sure his guitar skills had gone down the drain as of recent. Lovino was pretty lazy at that moment, though, so he decided to give Antonio a day or two to rest before gracing him with his wonderful presence.

Eventually, two days rolled over, and Lovino gave the Spaniard a call. "I'll come over today, is that alright?" he asked. Antonio would always say yes.

Two weeks later, however, Lovino was answered with another response.

"That's fine, you don't need to call me every time, by the way. I'm usually at home all day, since I don't work. If I'm not home, you can just let yourself in alright?" said Antonio.

Lovino smiled. He received so much trust from this guy, and they'd only known each other for a little more than a month. Not to mention, they got off to a bad start. Lovino had quickly changed all his thoughts about this guy; he was cool, well mannered, funny – and not to mention somewhat attractive, although he'd never say it to his face.

The Italian pinched himself. No, no way was he going to let himself fall for this guy. He was still annoying, at times, with his idiotic behavior and inability to grasp the situation. Yeah, in a few days, Lovino had realized how dense this guy was.

"Lovino! You're back again~" greeted Antonio. Lovino smirked.

"That's what happens when the recording guy wants to hear my play in a few days," he retorted.

Antonio gave an awkward smile, and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess so. Don't worry though, I think you're doing fine~"

Lovino walked inside the apartment, feeling the somewhat familiar atmosphere. He'd begun spending more and more time here recently. Occasionally he'd end up going out for lunch or dinner with the Spaniard. They'd already moved from student and teacher to friends, and every day the two learned different things about each other. One thing Lovino did find strange, however, was Antonio's aversion to the topic of his work. He'd never exactly specify what he worked as.

"It's a really strange job, Lovi. There's no way I can exactly specify it," he laughed awkwardly. "It's a mix of a lot of things, I guess."

-x-

Lovino ran his fingers across the strings of the guitar. His fingers had calloused over slightly, no longer burning him when he played. He'd learnt how to hold and use the guitar pick properly too, so that was one discomfort gone. He began to unconsciously play a single tune.

"Did Antonio teach you that?" asked a voice. Lovino looked up, and found it to be the French guy. Again.

"Hi Francis," he said curtly. "And yes… do you know it?" he asked.

Francis lowered his head and smiled. "You know, he made that song? I was with him when he made it," he added. Lovino frowned slightly. Wasn't that song a hundred or so years old?

"Quit messing with me, bastard," he said shortly, beginning to pack up his guitar. He strapped the velcro straps together, when the Frenchman's voice came over again.

"How much do you really know about Antonio?" he asked.

Lovino stopped. He looked to the side, before answering. "I-I don't know… I've only known him for a month or so. We've gone and ate a few times... but I guess I don't know him all that well," he confessed.

"But aren't you curious?"

It was silent for a while. Lovino suddenly felt a bit pissed off by this guy. What was his problem? "Curious about what? Why are you asking this?" he asked, irritation edging his voice. He couldn't deny that sometimes he was a bit curious, especially on those certain topics that would always be avoided…

He laughed, and looked out the window. "Sorry, I thought that maybe he would've told you something. Especially after what happened last time…" He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

Last time? Lovino had no idea what this guy was talking about. He looked up to see Francis's expression, but it was unreadable.

No, the bastard was probably trying to stir him up. If Antonio hadn't said anything, it probably wasn't important, nor any of his business. Plus, they hadn't known each other for very long. Perhaps he'd say something in the coming future.

"Bye, Francis," he said, before turning and heading out the door.

Francis watched as the door closed. "He's definitely curious, just a bit too proud to admit it," he mused.

-x-

**France, what on earth are you up to? ; _ ;**

**So, I'm trying to make it mostly plot [hence the timeskips], I've learnt and experienced that fillers aren't very fun. By the way, if this is boring in any way shape or form, PLEASE. FREAKING. TELL ME.**

**I NEED FEEDBACK ON THIS SORT OF STUFF, OR I'LL NEVER KNOW OTL  
AND THEN I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FIX IT ; A ;  
SO REVIEW ME PLEASE ; 3 ;**

**[/caps]**


	3. Chapter 3

"_Fratello_, have you watched the news recently?" came Feliciano's voice.

"Nope," replied his brother, not even raising his head from his book. "Why?"

"Well remember you told me Antonio worked in Spain? I hear stuff is getting pretty bad there, for the whole country," he said seriously.

"I'm sure he's fine, he's actually pretty rich," came Lovino's half-hearted reply. The other half of him was fully engrossed in his book. Man, it was a damn good book.

"I just hope he's okay, right?"

"Mm."

-x-

Antonio's house was a home away from home for Lovino. He'd spend as much time at the Spaniard's house these days as he did his own. He couldn't help it; he just felt more relaxed while in Antonio's company.

Antonio didn't mind in the slightest; in fact, he found the Italian boy rather cute. He found it amusing how he would always blush and call him names when he got embarrassed. He shot bright red, just like a tomato. And Antonio _loved_ tomatoes.

"Look Lovi, you're putting your hand on this string wrong again! It needs to be more this way, or it'll be flat!" scolded Antonio, moving Lovino's fingers _again, _to the right location.

Lovino felt himself tinge pink. He was suddenly aware – _very aware, _that both his and the Spaniard's hands were touching. Call him immature, but he jerked them away quickly, and turned his head before Antonio could make any sort of tomato-based comment.

"S-shut up, dammit, I could've figured that out myself!" he snapped. He clamped his mouth shut, realizing that he'd once again, yelled at Antonio for merely correcting his mistakes.

"A-are you alright, Lovi? You're going red," came Antonio's concerned voice. Lovino insisted he was fine, but Antonio had a hard time believing him. He brushed the Italian's hair away from his face, and lifted his palm to Lovino's forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever…"

"I-I said I'm fine!" shouted Lovino, jerking himself away from the Spaniard's touch. He was starting to feel _extremely _embarrassed.

"Alright… if you say so," smiled Antonio. Lovino looked away. He hated himself for yelling at the Spaniard, all he was doing was being kind, like he always was. But why did he have to look so handsome as he did it? Wait, what did he just think? These thoughts were all Feliciano's fault, dammit, forever droning on and on about how Lovino spent so much time at Antonio's and that they might be '_up to something_.'

He was brought back to reality by Antonio's voice. "Hey Lovino, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"What do you think of me?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

Lovino stared for a bit, before actually realizing what he'd been asked. "W-w-what the hell? What kind of a question is that?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Well you don't have to answer if you don't want to," said Antonio, although Lovino could tell he had a sad hint behind that statement.

He sighed, before answering quietly. "Y-you're… uh, really nice. You never get mad at me and.. yeah."

There was a brief pause, and Antonio contemplated what the Italian had just told him. "I see. What would you do if I were to hug you?"

Lovino's mind was swirling. Just why was Antonio asking this? "N-no comment," he said shortly, refusing to look the Spaniard in the eyes.

"What if I kissed you?"

Lovino could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He felt himself blushing deeper and deeper shades of red. "W-What the heck? Why are you asking this!" he cried, desperately wanting to change the subject.

Antonio laughed softly. "Don't worry about it, I'm just messing with you," he smiled, before getting up to get a drink.

Lovino's eyes fell on Antonio. '_That's the problem,' _a voice in his head told him. He bit his lip and looked away. No way would he ever tell Antonio that he secretly found him mildly attractive. Nope, never. He pushed the thoughts out of his head, and swore he'd never let them out.

He decided to calm himself down by playing the guitar. Now he absolutely _loved _the instrument, and would play it any second he could. He closed his eyes, letting his fingers run delicately over the strings, taking their places at the right spots and each sound complimenting the next. The plectrum gripped tightly between fingers, their movements like an impulse…

Music has become a whole other world for Lovino.

A loud, screeching noise filled the air, and Lovino jumped in shock. His music wasn't that shitty, was it? He calmed down when he realized that it was just his phone. He sighed, as he answered the phone.

"_Fratello, fratello_, I have something really important to tell you!" came his brother's frantic voice. Lovino frowned. Were they out of pasta? Feliciano continued on before Lovino had the chance to ask. "D-don't get mad please, _fratello_, but Ludwig decided to um.. er…" Felciano's voice became softer, almost to the point where Lovino couldn't hear him.

"What, what did he do dammit? Did he harass you? I knew it, that lead-sucking potato bastard-"

"No, nothing like that!" insisted Feliciano. "He… found this guy, his names Kiku and… he thought that he was a good guitar player and…"

Feliciano stopped his sentence. "What? What'd he do?" asked Lovino impatiently.

He could hear his brother taking a deep breath in before going on. "He thinks Kiku is better than you and um.. he replaced you," he said quietly.

Lovino froze up completely, the pick falling out of his fingers, guitar slipping from his lap. "W-what?" was all he could say dumbly.

Feliciano sighed. "I-I'm sorry _fratello_, he said it's the best thing and he wouldn't change his mind!" cried the younger Italian, in hopes of making the situation any better.

Of course those attempts were futile, Lovino was currently in a state of shock. That feeling where you'd just lost something really important to you. Although he'd never admit it to anyone, he'd actually been looking forward to playing with his brother more than anything else. They didn't exactly have a strong relationship, having grown up in separate households, and although he wasn't particularly friendly to his sibling, he still cared for him. He'd hoped this would have made them… more brotherly? Something like that.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what's up Lovi?" said Antonio worriedly, quickly scooping up the guitar from Lovino's lap before it fell on the floor. Lovino said nothing, instead just pressing the red button on his phone and ending the conversation, not caring about what else his brother had to say. He bit his lip, feeling really… let down. Antonio's noticed the difference in behavior, set the guitar in the case, and sat next to Lovino on the sofa. He sat there, waiting for the Italian's response to his previous question.

"F-Feliciano called," he said shortly, trying his best to keep his voice even. "They don't need me to play guitar anymore," he said quietly, looking away.

Antonio looked down. Ah, so this was it. He may be pretty dense, but seeing Lovino like this, he knew better than to ask any more than what he'd been told. So, he tried his hand at the comforting thing. "Lovi, it's alright if t-"

"It's alright? It's not fucking alright, dumbass!" he said suddenly, turning his head and staring at the Spaniard. "He fucking wrote me off! And my idiot of a brother probably didn't put up a half-decent argument! You wouldn't have a fucking clue how I'm feeling, so just shut the fuck up!" he yelled, before looking at the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat. _Again_, he'd just yelled at Antonio _again_, for caring about him. How many times had that made it? He'd lost count over the first few days.

"Lovino," said Antonio softly, almost a growl. The Italian looked around, expecting Antonio to be mad at him for the outburst, but instead found exhilarant, green eyes staring into his own.

Lovino froze for a bit, when he felt something resting on his hand. He knew, he didn't have to look, but he knew, they were definitely Antonio's hands. "You're a great guitarist, you've learn so much in such a short period of time," he said, leaning closer to Lovino.

The Italian closed his eyes, and felt himself blushing slightly at the now lack of personal space. Although for some reason, he relaxed more. "You don't need to worry about your brother, or that guy, or the guy who's replacing you. It's their loss, and they'll be without an excellent musician," he said calmly, almost hypnotic.

And without a second more, Antonio pressed his lips to Lovino's. At first, it was just a short, unsure brush, but as soon as the Spaniard realized Lovino wasn't drawing away, he gained confidence, with it growing into a long, passionate kiss. His hand had moved from the latter's, now reaching around his back.

They eventually broke off, panting slightly, and Antonio had then realized what he'd done. He was about to say something, when Lovino had stood up. "I-I've forgotten something," he said abruptly, before dashing out the door.

"W-Wait, Lovi, your… guitar…. Great," said Antonio, as he heard the door slam shut, and Lovino's slowly faltering footsteps running down the metal staircase. He frowned a bit, as if what occurred before was only now making sense to him. He looked out the window, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Ah, did I go too fast?" he laughed uncertainly, and half-heartedly.

-x-

Lovino tore down the stairs, three at a time, and paying little to no direction on his balance. His mind was pretty much in shock. If being told by his own brother he wasn't needed, in something he'd been looking forward to, being kissed by Antonio only added to his confusion. He hadn't anticipated it at all.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He didn't even get why Antonio had kissed him in the first place. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it…

He shook his head. Why was the only thing in his mind right now Antonio, of all things? It was his turn to be all depressed, now that he had somewhat of a reason, and he could be more noticeable than his brother. Well, that was the plan, at least…

Sighing, Lovino turned into the nearest coffee shop to think about things. After ordering his latte, he sat down at a wall seat so he could sulk in peace. Or, so he thought.

"_Bonjour_, Lovino," came a familiar voice. Lovino looked up to find his worst fear confirmed.

He stared up at the Frenchman, unable to form words for a bit. "W-what the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me or something?" he asked.

Francis wiggled his eyebrows. "Perhaps I am, perhaps," he smiled, before frowning seriously. "_Non, mon ami_, I work here," he said.

Oh. _Oh._ Well that was a legitimate enough explanation. "Ah, okay," Lovino replied awkwardly. He watched as Francis placed his cup of steaming latte on the table, and pulled up the opposite chair.

Francis lifted his hand to his chin, before beginning to talk. "What's up with you? You don't look very happy, where's your smile?"

Lovino frowned and looked down at his beverage. "Not like I smile anyway," he said sourly. "And nothing's up," he added.

Francis gave a blank expression. "Let me guess, something happened with Antonio?" he guessed.

Lovino looked up awkwardly. "Well… that's half of it I guess," he stammered. He decided it was impossible to lie to this guy, and as much as he disliked him, maybe talking over things might be an alright idea.

So Lovino started talking about how he'd received the call from his younger brother, and his outbreak at Antonio. Francis wasn't really interested of course, he was only hoping to hear about some romantic thing the two of them might have done in conclusion of the events.

But that was something Lovino was skeptical about sharing with the romantic Frenchman. He was sure that mentioning, even obscurely, anything… cute between him and Antonio would instantly catch Francis's attention faster than light.

"I can't believe my brother ditched me for that bastard Ludwig," he muttered to himself, for the sixth time that hour.

This, however, piqued Francis's interest. "Ludwig you say? Ludwig Beilschmidt?" he asked inquisitively.

Lovino blinked. "Y-yeah, that's him… do you know him or something?" he questioned.

Francis swallowed. "Yeah, we work together. Him, Antonio and I all sort of work together. Not at this café, though… something else, though that's unimportant, "he said, before shutting up.

Lovino narrowed his eyes. Francis works with Antonio, and just like the latter didn't go into much detail of their work. "So you work in Spain?"

Francis laughed. "No, no I don't . I work in France, Ludwig works in Germany," he smiled.

"But.. but you just freaking said you worked together!" said Lovino, confused and exasperated by this idiot's words.

Francis looked to the side, before smiling. "We're… sort of like business partners," he said. "Yeah, that works," he muttered to himself.

Lovino scowled. Maybe these guys were all secret spies or something, spying on America, that's why they're all not in their working countries. Or maybe they were part of the Underworld, selling drugs and illegal weapons.

He stifled a huge burst of laughter; no way would Antonio, being the dumbass he is, have ties to illegal businesses. He'd never realize when people were being serious or scamming the life out of him.

He drained the last of his drink, before getting up from his seat. "Thanks for listening to me… I think," he said, half smiling. He picked up his bag, when he suddenly realized he'd left the guitar over at Antonio's.

Whatever, he could get it… another time. That is, if he ever needed it again.

-x-

Opening the door to his house, Lovino felt irritated the second he stepped inside. First of all, his brother was happy. Fucking ecstatic. With the German bastard. And that new person replacing him. Maybe Lovino was being selfish, but he was upset with his brother (and the world) for making him feel slightly miserable.

So the plan was to creep into his bedroom slowly and silently, so he would be able to sulk there in peace.

"_Ciao, fratello_!" calling Feliciano happily. Shit, there went the plan. Lovino stared at the trio blankly, and nodded to his brother. He frowned slightly at the dark-haired Asian, and full-out scowled at Ludwig.

"What's the matter, _fratello_? And where's your guitar?" asked Feliciano innocently. "You don't look very happy," he said quietly.

"No shit I'm not happy, fucktard!" yelled Lovino, causing Feliciano to pout slightly at the insult. Kiku opened his mouth to say something, but decided not to at the last second. Ludwig, however, didn't hold his tongue.

"Does this have anything to do with Feliciano?" he said, irritated that their conversation was interrupted.

Lovino turned and stared at the German man. "Why don't you just shut the fuck up, and stay out of this?" he glared. "It's none of your business," he spat. "And your fault," he added in Italian.

Both Ludwig and Kiku watched blankly, as the siblings (mostly Lovino) bickered with each other in a conversation rapidly dropping into Italian more than anything else.

"Lovino, just drop it already!" came a different voice. The Italian turned, to see Antonio sitting at the counter, slightly irritated. "It has nothing to do with your brother, he's told you that already, so stop blaming him," he said tiredly. He'd been there the whole time, even before Lovino had entered the house, and had been listening in on their argument. He hadn't understood most of it due to the differences between Spanish and Italian and the speed they'd been talking, but he'd gotten the main points.

He shot a deathly look at Antonio, but held his tongue. Feeling the worst he had the whole day, he stormed past the four of them and shut himself in his room with a slam.

Feliciano was frozen slightly, before raising his arm and wiping his eyes. "I-I've never really seen him to mad before," he said quietly. He bit his lip, not meeting anyone in the eyes. He was glad that Lovino had been kind enough to say it in their language, he would've most likely cried of embarrassment if Ludwig and Kiku had heard what Lovino said about them.

He looked up, and gave an apologetic look at Antonio. "Um.. Antonio… do you think you could talk to him?" he asked quietly. "I-I don't think he wants to see me right now," he added, a sad tone to it.

Antonio looked at him uncomfortably. "If he doesn't want to talk to you what makes you think he'll talk to me?"

"Well… I'm the one he's mad at, you heard him didn't you? He's always talking about you, and he's been as happy as he is these days," he smiled.

Antonio's eyes lit up slightly. Lovino actually did that? "I-I guess I could then," he mumbled awkwardly, before getting up, and picking up the guitar case. He knocked twice on Lovino's door, followed by a timid 'can I come in?' before opening the door regardless.

Eh, Antonio didn't need to know that Feliciano had made up that second statement.

-x-

Antonio was greeted by a pillow being thrown at his face. "Piss off, bastard," came Lovino's muffled voice. Sighing, Antonio bent down to pick up the pillow, and promptly threw it back at Lovino.

There was a loud groan of irritation, and Lovino sat up from his bed. "What do you want?" he asked icily.

Antonio looked over at him, trying his best to avoid Lovino's eyes, in case of awakening his evident pissed-off-ness. "I er, brought your guitar over, since you kind of… left it there," he said.

"I could've gone and picked it up, you know… you didn't have to do all this," he sighed, as he got off his bed and took the guitar from Antonio's arms.

"Ah… I'm going to Spain again tonight so I wouldn't have been home," he said awkwardly.

Oh. "How come you didn't tell me earlier?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, uh, I was only told a few hours ago," he frowned. "Late notice, huh?" he laughed.

Lovino stared. "You could have asked for it to be tomorrow, couldn't you? Since it's a short notice and stuff…" he thought aloud.

"Ah…" he said, scratching his head. "My boss said it was urgent… can't ignore orders from the boss," he smiled.

There was a brief pause, and Lovino was just about to ask him again about his work, when the Spaniard suddenly began to cough violently.

"H-hey, bastard! A-are you alright?" Lovino asked, alarmed. Antonio lifted his hand up to show he was alright.

"I- I," he started, only to break off coughing again. He took a deep breath, a few more coughs, before calming down. "You've heard about Spain's economic condition, right?" he asked.

…What? To tell the truth, Lovino hadn't. He hadn't seen the news for a while, which was pretty bad. It sounded familiar, though. Maybe Feliciano had mentioned it..? "Yeah," he lied. "What of it?"

"I have to go to work for that reason," he sighed, looking up at the roof. "I guess I'm coughing because of the stress. I had a bit of a fever this morning too," he frowned.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't be working, then."

Antonio laughed. "If only I could quit, Lovi," he said. He sounded slightly tired as he said this too. "I've been working this job far too long," he added softly.

Lovino swallowed as he opened up the guitar case, to reveal the instrument before the two of them. The atmosphere also dropped a few degrees. "So…" began Lovino, unsure where to begin himself. "I… Feliciano doesn't need me anymore," he said quietly. That was the nth time the thought had crossed his mind that day, yet he still had trouble believing it

Antonio ran his fingers over a few strings of the guitar, smiling to himself. So many memories...

"You shouldn't quit, you know, just because of this," he said softly.

Lovino turned his head, cocking it to the side, waiting for Antonio to continue.

"I said it earlier, but… you're a great musician. You've learnt so much in a short amount of time. Don't… don't quit it, Lovi," he said, the tiniest amount of begging hidden away under it.

Biting his lip, the Italian looked at the floor. Half of him, his angry side, was telling him to give up guitar, get rid of it, to never touch music again. If he hadn't agreed to it in the first place, he wouldn't be feeling so fucking angry right now. But his smart side, which was quite often ignored, told him to press on. To continue, even without the drive of his brother to motivate him. Sure, he had been looking forward to playing with his brother, but there were always future opportunities, right? And even if… even if there weren't, he still did love to feel those strings under his fingers, the pick in his hand…

"I… I'll miss having you around if you stop," said Antonio.

And although he'd said it quietly, barely audible, it was magnified in Lovino's ears. A shock went through his body, as he realized what it was that Antonio had said. He actually _laughed_, and looked up at Antonio. He met him in the eyes, stunning, emerald eyes reflecting into his own.

"Who said I'm quitting, dumbass?"

-x-

**Hnnnggghhh I suck at fluff I much prefer writing angst. Angsty angst that makes your heart race. \( `3`****)/  
No Italian fighting dialogue since I don't know Italian, and I don't trust Google Translate…  
My apologies if everything's moving really fast. It's just that… I can't think of legitimate situations to fit between everything, without it seeming so… filler-ish, especially since I want to finish this off soon. School starting in February "orz**

**Please review, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! You've all been great so far ; u ; [/sends love to reviewrers]**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: Fluff and lame attempts at humor ahead. Be warned. However, to balance out the sweetness and to prevent you from gaining cavities (or prevent you from crying at the lameness), I've implemented a more serious ending to this chapter. I think... I don't know, someone help me here?**

**-x-**

Lovino's words sounded like angels singing to Antonio's ears. He felt happy, that's for sure. After all, that meant he could still teach Lovino, and remain close to him. Even if he had quit, they still probably would have kept in contact, but still, it wasn't the same…

Antonio looked down at Lovino's face. His cute, blushing face, accented by those brilliant green eyes of his. Antonio just couldn't tear his eyes away from them, and found himself unconsciously _staring_ at the Italian. This did make Lovino feel a _little_ uncomfortable.

"A-An…tonio?" he asked sheepishly, his eyes darting around the room. He shivered slightly, as he realized Antonio's gaze was fixed _entirely _on him.

Blinking a few times, Antonio awoke from his trance. He shook his head a few times, before opening his mouth. "Sorry, Lovi," he breathed, inching closer to the Italian. "Has anyone ever told you… that you're cute?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Lovino blinked, unable to speak. He swallowed, and opened his mouth to reply to the odd question, but was beaten to it by Antonio.

"Because you are," he said softly, their faces almost touching. Shocked, Lovino backed away slightly, only to realize he was up against a wall. He bit his lip, as he looked ahead and saw a determined expression dancing upon the Spaniard's features. "You're really, really adorable, did you know that?" he asked, leaning his head towards Lovino's. He pressed his arms to the wall, leaving Lovino no way to escape.

Lovino shivered, as he felt Antonio's mouth brush against his neck. He also couldn't help but notice how unusually _warm_ his forehead felt. Antonio's thick, dark hair tickled Lovino's face, and Antonio took full opportunity at this weakness. He moved his mouth upwards, breathing softly upon Lovino's face.

"A-Antonio, you're… you're really hot," he managed to say between gasps.

Antonio paused. "You think so?" he said, almost smiling.

"Yeah, you're fucking burning. Do you have some sort of monster fever or some shit?" he asked, managing to inch away from Antonio slightly.

Frowning, Antonio moved closer to Lovino. "I… I don't know," he replied, and continued his tasting of Lovino's skin. Antonio felt his arm buckle, and it turned out that Lovino had pushed it down.

"No, no way. I think you're sick, man," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I'll be right back, I'll … I'll grab the thermometer," he said hurriedly, before darting out of the room. He closed it, and sank to the floor. What was all that? One minute, they'd been having a civil conversation, and the next, Lovino found himself pinned to the wall with a delicio- hot, as in temperature hot (not anything else… well maybe a bit, but that was beside the point) Spaniard against him.

Well, it was a good thing to say to get out of the room, but he actually meant it. There was no way Antonio was that hot before… was he? He walked past the happy trio, avoiding any eye contact, and generally not looking in their direction whatsoever. He opened the medicine cabinet, and pulled out the large, plastic container filled with all sorts of things that… probably shouldn't be there.

After pulling out numerous boxes of prescription medicine (that they were supposed to throw out after they get better) he managed to find the thermometer. But as he reached in to grab it, he couldn't help but notice that one, strange box that he'd never seen in there before.

…Oh god, was that _lube? _It _definitely _wasn't his, because he… not that he'd admit it to anyone, but he was still a virgin. He wasn't too sure about Feliciano though… wait, the only other person in this house _was_ Feliciano. Curious, he pulled it out to find it already opened. He swallowed, as he noticed a recept stapled to the side of the box. He almost gagged as he found that it had been bought fairly recently. And… the other people that had set foot in this house, besides him and his brother was… Ludwig… and as of today that Japanese guy.

Lovino closed his eyes and cringed. His brother… and Ludwig… That was _definitely _something he _did not want to think about. Ever. _He threw it back in the box, as if it were some poisonous snake, and tried his best to bleach those unwanted thoughts from his mind. As he headed back towards his bedroom, he noticed his brother looking at him worriedly. Still pissed from before, and a little… disturbed at what he'd just discovered, he shot him a glare, and looked ahead, hearing his brother's whimpers. He knew that Ludwig was looking at him, but he didn't care. Lovino hated him _so _much right now, it wasn't even funny. He hated him for writing him off, he hated him because Feliciano spent so much time with him, he hated him because… he only ate potatoes and drank beer… and… because he was screwing his brother!

He shuddered at all those thoughts as he reached his bedroom door. He held his hand to the doorknob, unsure of what might happen to him when he enters. What if Antonio decided to kiss and pin him down again? Or… or what if Antonio had passed out on the floor? He turned the handle, and slowly opened the door, peeking through the small gap.

"Ah, you're back Lovino~" came Antonio's voice, although considerably softer. He was lying on Lovino's bed, an arm raised over his forehead. "Ah, I guess you were right… I do feel a little warm, huh? I felt a little dizzy so I decided to lie down on your bed…I hope that's alright with you…"

Lovino didn't reply, but instead sat down next to the Spaniard, and shoved the thermometer into his hands. "Use this," he muttered, folding his arms and looking away.

"Ah, a thermometer, thanks Lovino," he said quietly, before sticking it under his tongue. The room then got eerily quiet, besides the occasional beep of the electronic thermometer. While Antonio lay there, Lovino busied himself by clearing some papers from his desk.

Five, short beeps indicated that the thermometer had finished taking the temperature. Antonio took it out of his mouth, before looking at the number. "Ah," he said softly, closing his fingers around it.

"What, what is it?" asked Lovino, returning to the side of the bed.

"It's nothing, it's fine just a little- ah," he started, but stopped after Lovino grabbed the object from Antonio's fingers.

"One… one hundred and two. One fucking hundred and two. You call this fine? What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want to die, bastard?" yelled Lovino, suddenly extremely serious.

Antonio laughed. "It's not like something like this will kill me," he said to himself. "I'll just call my boss then… and say I can't come because I'm sick," he told Lovino.

Lovino frowned slightly, before sighing. "Fine…" he said curtly, before climbing onto his bed. He sat next to Antonio's figure, and lowered his forehead to the Spaniard's, comparing temperatures. He could feel the latter's irregular breathing softly against his cheeks. He swallowed. "You don't sound very good," he said quietly.

Antonio raised his arms up, and pulled Lovino closer towards him. "You'll make me better," he said jokingly, as Lovino made muffled sounds of protest.

There were a few short taps at the door, which probably meant nothing as the next second Feliciano came in the room. A smile played at the edge of his mouth, before clearing his throat. "Ve, did I interrupt anything?" he said, almost playfully. Lovino blushed at the question, quickly shaking his head and insisting the two weren't up to anything.

"Do you need anything?" Lovino asked, a hint of a sour tone still lingering on the words. Feliciano bit his lip, and looked away.

"N-no, I was just.. just wondering if you were okay, but it seems you are," he said quickly, before closing the door.

"Don't you think you should apologize to him? I mean, he's your brother, and you said some pretty harsh stuff back there," said Antonio softly.

Lovino's hands tightened, and he looked away. He didn't want Antonio to see his face right now, because he was sure that the emotion he was feeling right then was reflected in his eyes. He felt troubled and unsure, not to mention betrayed, and hurt. It was like being a hormonal, emotional teenager all over again, despite the fact he was in his twenties. "I… I'll apologize to him… just not now, I think," he replied. "I'm not ready to face him yet. Not to mention he'd probably make me apologize to the fucker Ludwig and their little Asian friend," he added sourly.

Antonio sighed. "If that's how you feel I guess," he replied simply. There was another eerie silence between the two of them.

"I.. I'm going to have a shower, you shouldn't go anywhere okay?" he said, getting off the bed. He grabbed some clothes and his towel, and shot Antonio another worrying glance before closing the door.

-x-

Ah, how good it felt to have clean water run down your skin. Especially after a really, fucking retarded shit of a day. Lovino leaned against the wall, a blank expression on his face. Thanks to Antonio, he was slightly over this guitar dilemma of his, but also thanks to Antonio, Lovino found himself in another dilemma. A really, fucking stupid dilemma called love.

He tousled his hair with his hands, shaking it aggressively. Lovino, despite insisting he was a super smooth Italian, thus making him a great romanticist, was confused. He closed his eyes as he tried to think, why was he falling for this idiot bastard Antonio? He bit his lip as he made a mental list.

He was kind. That was one of the first things Lovino had realized about the carefree Spaniard. He rarely, if ever got mad. He always had a positive attitude towards things (which one could never say about Lovino) and always kept a smile on his face. Even when he was sick with a 102 degree fever. And goddammit, it was a beautiful smile.

He actually put up with all of his, yes he admitted it, bullshit. Lovino knew he had an attitude impossible to please, as he'd always try to … be well, Lovino. Yet Antonio never got exasperated at Lovino for yelling at him, even when it was for absolutely no fucking reason.

Those eyes. Fucking hell, that shade of green would make emeralds look dull.

He smiled, and banged his head against the wall as he realised something. He actually just made a list about why he liked that idiot. Lovino wasn't dumb. He, as much as he refused to believe it, knew that he was in love with the Spanish bastard. But did this Spanish bastard feel the same?

After getting dressed, and drying his hair with the towel as best he could, he scampered back towards his bedroom. He noticed the little Asian guy was gone, but unfortunately the German dickhead was still there. Lovino wasn't really keen on seeing what they were _really _doing, so he half-closed his eyes for the brief few seconds that they were in sight on the way to the laundry.

He walked into his bedroom, and the first thing he noticed was that he received no words from Antonio. Leaning closer, he discovered that the Spaniard had fallen asleep. "Gee, did I shower for that long?" he muttered to himself. At a time like this, Lovino hated himself for not investing in a chair to place in his room. Usually, he sat on his bed. But, he couldn't do that since there was a sleeping dude on it. And other than that, he would sit on the sofa. Which, he also couldn't do because his brother and a certain prick were there. Doing… stuff Lovino would rather not think about.

He bit his lip, before sighing. "Whatever, I'll get up before he does anyway," he muttered to himself, as he lay down on the other side of the bed from Antonio. He pulled out the book he'd been reading from his bag, and started to read. The Italian failed to realise that his eyelids were drooping with every second that passed, and undoubtedly he fell asleep.

-x-

Antonio awoke to find a sweet smell of berries tickling his nose. Glancing to the side, he found Lovino lying conveniently next to him, his hair wafting a smell of berry-scented shampoo. He smiled, before lifting a palm to his forehead. Still hot. That sucked. He turned over once, before wrapping an arm around the Italian's body to act as a pillow and pressed a quick hiss to Lovino's cheek. Content, he closed his eyes and resumed his sleep.

-x-

A shrill, beeping noise filled the air. Startled, Lovino woke up, only to find himself pinned to the bed by someone's arm. Wait, what? He opened his eyes completely, to find Antonio's arm wrapped around his waist. He blushed slightly, as he realised what had probably happened over the past few hours. "An..tonio," he said, annoyed. "Is that your phone?"

Antonio gave a long sigh, before rolling over and finding his phone in his pocket. "Hello?" he answered, his tone less cheerful than usual.

"Spain, is that you?" came a voice so loud, Lovino could hear it even without the loudspeaker. Antonio shot a glance at Lovino worriedly, before answering.

"Yes, it's me, and I've told you countless times to call me Antonio!" he insisted hurriedly.

"Yeah yeah whatever, you're still Spain to me. Anyway, I heard you're not home, where are you?" asked the man's voice. Lovino gave a curious glance at Antonio.

Antonio tried his best to avoid Lovino's adorable facial expression. "Yeah… I got sick uh, 102 degrees," he added.

"Ah, it's getting worse is it?" replied the man, his voice darker. "Well if you'd get home so the driver can take you to the airport, maybe we could remedy the situation."

Antonio frowned. "I-I told you already, I can't! There's no way they'd let me on the plane with a fever like this, you know that," Antonio said, slightly agitated.

"Just show them the pass on your ID card! It's not like you can pass your sickness to humans anyway!" cried the man, his voice getting louder and harder to understand.

Antonio's eyes widened, as he realised what his superior had just said. He shot a look at Lovino, and bit his lip as he saw the look of confusion written all over his face. "Humans?" he mouthed, frowning slightly.

Antonio opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by his superior again. "This is why I don't get why you're always staying over in America. You're not America, heaven forbid, you're Spain! You should be living in Spain, at least then it would be easier to contact you!"

Sighing, Antonio realised the longer he stayed on the phone, the more Lovino would find out about what he really was. It wasn't going to do much, but it was better than nothing. He continued the conversation in Spanish.

Lovino frowned, as he tried to piece together what he'd heard. It wasn't good to be eavesdropping, but something about their conversation didn't seem right. Alright, so whoever the man on the other side was had first addressed Antonio as Spain. He'd also said he was always Spain to him. But that wasn't a problem, it could be a nickname, right?

But then he'd also said that Antonio couldn't 'pass his sickness to humans, anyway.' Did that mean Antonio had some kind of inhuman disease? Wait, wouldn't that make Antonio inhuman?

Antonio pressed the red button on his phone, and threw it on the floor. "Agh, persistent old man," he muttered. "He won't let me get off… he's making me take the next flight. Sorry, Lovi," he smiled sheepishly, before his expression went solemn.

"A-Antonio… I don't mean to be rude or doubt you or anything but…" began Lovino. He looked up at the Spaniard with bright, curious eyes, that he just couldn't resist softening his expression to.

"So you head my boss, huh?" he said quietly, shoulders dropping.

There as a brief pause, before Lovino continued. "He..He called you Spain. And… he implied that you were in…inhuman?" he asked quietly.

Antonio opened his mouth, his mind swirling for perhaps a lie that could somewhat cover everything, but Lovino beat him to it.

"And if you're going to lie to me, don't," he said, his eyes darkening, as if he was expecting him to lie. Antonio looked away slightly, taken aback by Lovino's possible distrust of him. "If… If I mean anything to you… you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" he asked quietly.

Antonio was speechless. Lovino did mean something to him… and Antonio knew that if he kept on lying, it would only make things worse in the future. But he also didn't want to tell Lovino the truth. What… what if things ended up like last time?

He shook his head. He'd promised himself all those years ago that he'd never think about what happened last time. He also promised he'd never let history repeat itself.

Antonio looked to the floor. "Alright, I-I'll tell you. But can you wait until I get back from Spain, at least? It's not something I can explain in a short while," he said softly.

Lovino looked at him seriously, before softening his expression. "F-fine. But answer me this: Are you human?" he asked, his tone dead serious.

Looking away, Antonio bit his lip. How the hell was he meant to answer that?

"Ah… that…. Depends on how you see things, I guess? I am human, I'm not an elf or a vampire in that sense if you were thinking something like that, by the way," he added hurriedly.

Lovino contemplated the answer, and opened his mouth several times to comment, only to close it shortly after.

"Alright then, I'll… I'll give it a thought. I'll be waiting for your explanation when you get back though, bastard," he scowled.

Antonio laughed. "Ahaha, thanks for understanding me… I guess?" he smiled, before wrapping his arms around the Italian's torso. "I promise I'll tell you everything when I get back," he said softly into Lovino's hair.

He felt a pinch on his shoulder, followed by a scowl from Lovino. "You'd better, bastard."

-x-

**Ohai srs Spain. Ohai rushed ending.  
I think… I think… that this might be about it for the fluff. I think I said it before that this was a serious story, so maybe after this chapter the fluff will be cut back a bit. Or a lot. Who knows. Ah, I'm not satisfied by this chapter very much..**

**So anyway, I need moar feedback guys. I didn't get much last chapter, but something simple, criticising or constructive will make me love you ; u ; Even telling me why you like the story makes me happy ~ [/hinthint] **


	5. Chapter 5

Lovino watched from his bedroom window, as Antonio was picked up in a taxi. He would return to his apartment, before heading straight to the airport. He slumped on his bed, and closed his eyes. Now he was _way _too curious to find out what Antonio really was, if not human. A thought struck him – If Antonio supposedly 'worked' with Francis and Ludwig, and for some strange reason his 'inhumane-ness' was linked to his job… would that make Francis and Ludwig inhuman too?

He shook his head, getting slightly confused himself. Maybe he was over thinking things a little bit. Or, he was on the right track, but his conscious was telling him to stop prying. Lovino scowled either way, getting his mind back onto what Antonio could possibly be.

So vampires and elves had already been ruled out. But that didn't mean werewolves hadn't… right? Lovino had to admit, it sounded really, utterly stupid when a normal person thought of it, but Lovino had several, non-sensual clues. Maybe Antonio 'went to Spain' for 'work' during the full moon. He sat up and glanced up at the moonlight, and it was indeed a huge, round, glowing … moon. But Ludwig hadn't gone anywhere, he was down the hall right now (unfortunately) and he didn't know anything about Francis's current location. Unless he was still at work, which Lovino doubted.

Now the Italian was getting hyped up. "I wonder if he bites me, if I'll turn into a werewolf too? Or is that vampires?" he muttered, confused yet too lazy to look it up online. He tried to think to before when Antonio had pinned him to the wall. He hadn't bitten him… that he knew of. And his fever. According to that black vampire book he'd been seeing everywhere… about sparkling vampires or something, werewolves had hot body temperatures.

…not that he'd read the book or anything…of course not… he just... somehow happened to know...

"Ah, fuck this I'm too lazy to think of this right now," he muttered, flicking off the lights from his bedside table. He shut his eyes, trying to sleep. Which would've been easy if he couldn't hear Ludwig's voice, which wasn't exactly a lullaby. "Fucking bastard," he mumbled, using his pillow to cover his ears.

-x-

Lovino awoke to someone knocking on his door. "_Fratello?_" came a quiet voice from the other side. Groaning, he rolled over and opened one eye to see strong light filtering through his window. Glancing at the clock, he scowled as he read 7:35AM on a Saturday. He sighed, as he closed his curtain slightly, and hauled himself off the bed.

Turning the handle, he found himself face-to-face with the one and only Feliciano. He looked a little… nervous? And maybe slightly scared.

Lovino blinked at him with sleepy eyes. "What?" he asked, rather bluntly.

Feliciano lowered his eyes, and bit his lip. "Um.. uh… I brought this tray to your door last night, but you kind of didn't eat it," he said, pushing a tray of coffee and pasta towards his brother.

Lovino frowned. He did? "Oh… really?" he asked, tilting his head. "Sorry, I didn't see it," he replied.

"O-oh. I thought I'd bring it to you, you didn't eat since you came home yesterday night and…" he trailed off. Feliciano was definitely a little nervous to be talking to his brother like this, especially after his outburst the day before. Did he want to talk about it?

Lovino took the tray into his hands. "Um, listen bro… about yesterday…" he said, unsure what to say next. Feliciano looked up with him, curiosity evident in his amber eyes. Lovino bit his lip. Damn, this was definitely not something he was used to. It wasn't every day that he flat-out apologized to anyone. But it _was _his brother, and after all that he'd told himself about making a better sibling relationship with him… he was an idiot for fighting in the first place.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you… and blaming you when you'd already said that you tried… I know it's not really your fault and…" he stopped. He seriously had no idea what to say. Had he already said everything he needed to? Apparently so, as Feliciano gave a huge 've~' of excitement, and then proceeded to giving his brother a huge 'bro-hug', by throwing himself around the other's neck. Although he'd given his brother the whole apology, he wasn't exactly sure how long it would take him to actually get over everything. Oh well, he could point all his hatred towards that shithead Ludwig. Yeah, that worked.

But, right now he did have a legitimate reason to be angry with his brother. "Feli, you idiot!" he yelled, as Feliciano's 'bro-hug' had caused Lovino to spill not only coffee all over himself, but the plate of pasta to crash onto his wooden floor, which was now littered with ceramic shards and loose bits of pasta and sauce.

"_Ve, fratello_ I'm sorry!" he cried, as he ran out to the kitchen to get a cloth to clean up the mess. Lovino scowled, as he pulled his coffee-infused shirt over his head, wiped his chest a bit, and threw it on the floor.

"Dumbass," he muttered, as he tousled his hair in annoyance, searching for some clothes to wear. He frowned, as he dug through all his wardrobes looking for a shirt to wear. Seriously, there were clothes _everywhere, _but none that he actually _wanted _to wear.

He eventually settled on a black t-shirt, although he wished he could wear something more stylish. Not that he was going anywhere, but just his smooth, Italian intuition and all, made him feel really… uncool? Something like that.

Feliciano returned about a minute later, laden with paper towels and a dishcloth to wipe up the mess. While he did that, Lovino went out to the kitchen to get some food. He let Feliciano do the cleaning, I mean seriously, Lovino couldn't clean if his life depended on it.

While his food was spinning around in the microwave, he felt his phone beep in his pocket. He must have slept with it there, instead of putting it on the desk…

He flipped it open, and found it to be a text message from Antonio.

_From: Antonio C  
Hola *heart*  
[España]_

Lovino stared down at his phone. Did Antonio really have nothing better to do? He quickly punched in a short message in reply.

_From: Lovino V  
What  
[DatItalian]_

While Lovino sat at the dining table eating some damn good pasta(Feliciano's was second-best only to his), he felt his phone vibrating again. But he was hungry, so he ignored it until he'd finished eating it all.

_From: Antonio C  
Have you thought about what I am? (:  
[España]_

Lovino bit his lip as he looked at what the Spaniard had written him. He smiled slightly, and decided to be a slight smart-arse with his response.

_From: Lovino V  
You're making me wait until you get back, you can wait too bastard  
[DatItalian]_

_From: Antonio C  
Aww ur no fun Lovi  
[España]_

_From: Lovino V  
Deal with it  
[DatItalian]_

-x-

**Hello stripping Lovino ;) Stripping Spain would be better, though. [/SHOT] and lame Twilight reference but who agrees with me that Lovino would have secretly read it?**

**This is kind of a filler chapter even though I said I'd stay away from them asfjsakl BUT. HEAR ME OUT HERE, PEOPLE. I thought that jumping straight to Antonio coming back would be really way too fast and stuff so [/takes breath] yeah. I kept it short, didn't want to be boring. In fact, the only important part was Lovino and Feliciano making up. [I almost mistyped that as making out LOL] so you all forgive me, right? ;_;**

**Thanks for the nice feedback guys c: My apologies if I don't reply, I usually only do if you do a nice critique that I can comment on, or you ask me a question. But keep it up, it's the reviews that motivated me to update this quicker! C:  
&To the anon reviewer: Do you really want me to answer that? You'll find out what happens later, so be patient ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

Lovino walked up and down the room, arms folded as he shot pouting looks towards the Spaniard. He'd only returned from Spain several hours ago, and despite the fact that he _may _have been tired, Lovino took the next bus to his apartment.

Antonio had greeted the Italian sheepishly, and before Lovino demanded his explanation, made a statement about how he was tired and wanted a rest, but that Lovino was welcome to stay.

Lovino looked again towards the sleeping Antonio, and found himself blushing slightly. Why did Antonio have to look so goddamn hot all the time, even while he sleeps? Lovino knew he wasn't exactly sleeping beauty; he drooled and occasionally talked in his sleep. Not to mention he would have random spells of insomnia or streams of non-sensual nightmares.

He stopped his pacing, and stepped towards Antonio. His eyes graced over him, taking in every inch of his tanned skin, that messy dark hair and toned muscles.

Lovino revolted. _Why _was he thinking these things? There was no way a subconscious part of him actually felt that… actually, it probably did. He pinched himself on the arm, and sat on the sofa near Antonio's feet. He watched Antonio sleep, because that was a totally not-creepy thing to do. He heard his breathing, soft and regulated, the rise and fall of his chest, the tiny twitches his lips made. Everything around him was like a lullaby, dragging him to sleep…

It wasn't long before he inched further and further down, eventually resting amongst his friend's legs. Of course, when that happened it woke up Antonio. He sat up, slightly groggy, wondering what exactly had interrupted his wonderful dream. He rubbed his eyes, and couldn't help a small smile when he found the Italian sleeping soundly at the foot of his couch.

Reality suddenly dawned on him. He frowned as he realised that he would soon have to be giving Lovino the _real _explanation. Why was he getting so worked up about it, though? He could trust Lovino… couldn't he? He scratched his head uncomfortably, looking over towards Lovino's sleeping face. "I-I better wake him up, I think," he said, lips curling into a light smile. "He'll probably… yell at me or something if I don't."

"Lovino," he said quietly, shaking the younger man slightly. "Are you awake?"

Lovino shifted slightly, before groaning. "Now I am, thanks a lot bastard…" he muttered, sitting up slightly. "Wait, what? Why am I at your place?" he said suddenly, slightly more awake.

Antonio looked incredulously at him. "You kind of rushed here as soon as I got back, and then fell asleep on my couch," he told him, laughing slightly.

The Italian relaxed slightly. "F-forgot about that, shut up," he mumbled, looking away slightly. He was probably going to tinge red soon..

"A-anyway!" he said loudly, before Antonio could say anything. He looked up at the Spaniard, slightly nervous, yet full on curious. "Uh, right. You. Explanation. Now," he said rather forcefully.

Antonio furrowed his eyebrows, before giving a hopeful look towards Lovino. "Can I at least hear your theories first?" he asked.

Lovino stared. First Antonio had the nerve to disappear off to fucking _Spain _instead of telling him, forcing him to wait five fucking days, and was now asking for fucking theories? Who did he think he was?

He frowned towards the Spaniard. "Fine. Werewolf?" he asked.

Antonio broke out into laughter. "I thought I said I-I wasn't anything like that?" he cried.

Lovino scowled. "You only said you weren't a vampire or an elf. Um.. an…" he paused, desperately thinking of something that might be somewhat legitimate. "An Immortal?" he guessed wildly.

Antonio stopped laughing, and grew slightly more serious. "Ah, closer… in a way I guess… but also nowhere near…" he added. "Any more?"

"I can't be fucked thinking of shit like this, can you just tell me?" said Lovino exasperated.

Biting his lip, Antonio looked down at the floor. "A-ah, I guess… I guess I could, then," he said, grimacing slightly. He sat back down on the plush sofa, and gesturing for the Italian to sit beside him. Reluctantly, he dropped down onto the cream furniture, and sat next to Antonio.

"I… I…am," he began, before pausing. Might as well say it out right now, rather than creating some kind of dramatic (and probably a fail) build up towards the answer. "I'm a country," he said shortly. And now, he sat back and waited for Lovino's reaction. "And this probably makes absolutely no-"

"No fucking sense? You got that right," replied Lovino, expression flat.

Antonio gave a weak smile in response. "Ah.. yeah.. not really something you hear every day… " he said quietly. "You probably don't believe me, huh?" he asked, but it was more of a rhetorical question. There was a large pause, and Antonio looked awkwardly towards the Italian, who was busy staring at the floor, his fingers interweaving each other.

Lovino sat up, now looking right at Antonio. "A country," he repeated, looking at him carefully. "As in a landmass?" he asked, a slightly sceptical tone in his voice, and also slightly sarcastic.

Antonio blinked. "A-ah, well I'm the country of Spain," he said matter-of-factly. "Think of me as a personified version." He hesitated for a bit, wondering whether or not to continue. Lovino was looking at him expectantly, however, and he sighed before continuing. "When things aren't going well with the country, I well… feel it? I don't know if that's the best word," he laughed sheepishly.

And although he wouldn't admit it, Lovino was quite confused. A country, seriously? He'd never in a million years be able to think of something as…. As…. Irregular as that. Antonio appeared to be a normal human being, yet he was claiming to be a… a goddamn country? He opened his mouth to speak, only to hesitate and falter. Biting his lower lip, he finally managed to get something out. "Are .. are you… I," he said, suddenly uncomfortable. "It's kind of like what I heard your boss say… wait, if you're… Spain," he managed to get out, suddenly thoughtful, " who would that make your boss?" he asked, although he had an idea already.

"Uh, whoever leads Spain I guess?" Antonio replied, eyebrows raised.

Yeah, that was what Lovino was thinking along the lines of. "So… you're like, ages old, right?" he asked, suddenly a little more interested.

Antonio frowned. "Yeah but I only look in my twenties, right? I don't want to look … hundreds of years old, thanks," he said, on the verge of a smile. There was a brief pause, and he suddenly returned to being stoic. "Lovi," he began.

"Hm?" he replied, now looking at the floor.

"Aren't you mad?" he asked quietly.

Lovino stared at up Antonio, suddenly… intrigued? Maybe that wasn't the word… Antonio looked like he was remembering something, god knows how old, but it clearly wasn't something pleasant. "Why would I be mad?" he asked.

Looking up at Lovino, Antonio gave him a thoughtful look. "I-I don't know, maybe because I hid this from you for so long? Something this er, important, especially since we were getting really close…"

Lovino blushed slightly at the last comment. He turned his head, before hastily replying. "E-everyone has secrets, it's just … I'm not really mad, more… confused? Dude, someone I know just told me they're a country, not a human. It's not exactly something you'd … a normal person would hear every day, dammit!" he said, looking up at Antonio, a slightly troubled look in his eyes.

Antonio looked at him and bit his lip. No, he didn't know how it felt since he'd always been like that. "I-I'm just like a normal person, just that I do country-things and… go to war if there's one… and uh, I can't die like a human does," he frowned.

_Die. _Oh. That was another thing Antonio wouldn't be doing.. in the same lifetime as Lovino, most likely. He swallowed. "So.. you can't die… ever?" he asked softly, curiosity dripping off each word.

Antonio sighed, and leaned forward slightly. "Well, in a way we sort of can, we don't really die, we just cease to exist," he said. "Have… have you ever heard of a country called Prussia?" he asked.

Lovino shook his head.

Looking to the side, Antonio gave a half-hearted smile. "Ah.. I guess they don't really teach that anymore, do they…" he said, slightly spaced out. "A-anyway, well I was friends with the guy that personified Prussia… it was a country a while ago, but dissolved after World War II. His name was Gilbert," he said, a lump suddenly forming in his throat. "And uh… since his country… disappeared, so did he."

Lovino stared. How could Antonio be saying this all so casually? "So… you just woke up one day and he was gone?" he asked.

Antonio frowned slightly. "He did this thing where he officially called his country as dissolved and he just faded, I think," he said quietly. "It..it was a long time ago, I can't quite remember…" he said, shrugging slightly.

Lovino looked down, letting this sink in. So the only way Antonio could die was for… Spain, to physically disappear. That… that was some pretty mindfucking info.

The Italian let his logical side kick in. "Since you work with Francis," he said slowly. "He's a country too," he said, not really expecting a reply, as he pressed on before any coherent reply could be formed. "I'm assuming France, right?" he said, slightly louder, earning a slight nod from the Spaniard. "And… and… Ludwig, that bastard," he said shortly, suddenly serious. "He's Germany or something, isn't he?" he asked.

Antonio smiled sheepishly. "A-ah, yeah… yo-you're good at this Lovi," he said awkwardly, hand running along the tips of his hair.

"No shit, I'm a goddamn genius," he mused. "I'm guessing you don't want me telling anyone, would you? But what about my brother? Him and… Germany," he spat, "are getting kind of…" His mind flashed back to the bottle of lubrication gel he'd found in the cupboard. "Close," he said, for a lack of a better word. He shuddered.

Antonio went silent for a bit. "It's… kind of each country's decision on who to tell and who to not, most choose not to tell," he explained.

Lovino's protective over sibling thoughts took over. "But he's a country, and my brother's just a human, like me… he has a right to know, dammit! He… might not know what he's getting himself into," he said, slightly more pathetic than he'd intended.

"Do you?" Antonio asked. Seeing Lovino's confused reaction, he looked away. "Do you know what you're getting yourself into?"

"I'm different to you, I'm pretty sure you know that now," he said, a pained edge to his voice. "I don't age, I don't die… I don't even have to eat, you know. What happens to me doesn't even affect my country… only the other way around," he said quietly. He hoped that Lovino didn't sense the slight longing in his voice.

"I-I.. of course I know, dammit, otherwise… otherwise I would have left already," came the Italian's reply. There was a brief pause, and Lovino suddenly realised what he'd said. He clamped his hand over his mouth, as he started to tinge pink. "N-n-not that I.. I'd… " he stammered. He decided to shut up.

After another long and awkward pause, he tried again. "L-look," he started. Damn, this was awkward. "I know that you're different er, in some kind of sense," he continued. He still didn't have his head around what Antonio _exactly_ was, but he had some kind of blurry idea. "But you're still a person, aren't you? You might have a different lifespan, or.. or, I don't know, eating habits or something, but… you're more or less just another person, aren't you?" he said pointedly.

Antonio looked at him in surprise. "Y-yea I guess, but-"

"And…. There's no fucking thing that says we can't still be friends," he said quietly.

Antonio stopped his sentence, rendered speechless. His green eyes shone, his heart racing faster than normal. "L-Lovi," he said. He relaxed slightly, into a light smile. "You're amazing, did you know that?" he mused, enjoying the look of surprise on the Italian's face. He pulled him into a tight hug. "Thanks, Lovi," he said quietly.

Lovino felt his heart speed up, as he realized the Spaniard had his arms wrapped around him, his lips buried in his hair.

The Spaniard closed his eyes, his fingers drumming against Lovino's back. "I love you, Lovino," he breathed softly into his hair.

One could not imagine how glad Lovino was that his face was hidden from Antonio's view. In those few seconds, he'd gone such a shade of red that he could rival tomato hands down. He shivered, still caught in Antonio's embrace, and simply closed his eyes. His throat was stuck, and he had no idea what to do. His heart screamed 'l love you too', yet his mind yelled 'don't.' He knew that he loved him. He'd only just come to terms with it, and was still in slight denial. Hearing the guy who clouded his thoughts so often say this to him…

He was too shocked to say anything. Let alone 'me too.' They'd hugged. They'd kissed, on numerous occasions. He'd even been pinned to a wall. It should have been obvious to Lovino, yet he'd denied all those times.

He opened his mouth to say something back, but faltered, and closed it. He instead leaned closer to Antonio, burying himself within his arms. He didn't say anything.

…'_should I have_?' he asked himself.

-x-

**I SWEAR THE FACT IT'S A LITTLE BIT SIMILAR TO TWILIGHT WAS NOT. FUCKING. INTENTIONAL. God, who'd want to copy that anyway e_e; but I noticed how similar it was when Spain asked for theories. /SHOOTS SELF] SOB SOB.**

**Another chapter that I'm not satisfied with. I tried to fit in how **_**damn weird**_** and awkward it would be but… failed. I found it boring sob. Le sigh. People, tell me what you think, when I get feedback from you readers it makes me feel better T_T; [/low self esteem girl] and yes a crap cliffhanger that fails cos I have NO BLOODY IDEA WHAT TO DO. I mean I do for the next few chapters but I'm so bad at ending them appropriately… ughhh.**

**Also a quick question: can anyone suggest a good name to use for Belgium? **


	7. Chapter 7

Lovino's heart raced, as he jumped down the stairs at lightning speed. He'd glimpsed a wall-clock through Antonio's arms and holy fuck, it was late. He shook himself as he wondered why the hell he'd stayed there for so long.

As buses had stopped ages ago, and it was far too cold and late to walk, he called the number for the taxi service, and after waiting ten minutes managed to get into one of the vehicles. He closed his eyes as he sat in the back seat, head still freaking spinning over the day's events. He was really, utterly confused. Yeah, that was one way to put it. But.. shouldn't he have expected this? He was forewarned by Antonio that he wasn't… normal. He'd been told, and he should have expected something like this… after all, he'd asked for it in the first place.

'_Maybe it's because I'm a human. Stuff like this doesn't happen to every day, regular people. I bet if I happened to be a… an elf or something, Antonio wouldn't be surprised. After all, he's practically immortal?' _he thought, rubbing his temples. He just sighed. It wasn't that he doubted Antonio, or that he suspected him of lying… agh, why was it so hard for him to describe his feelings right now? One would think he was a high schooler going through puberty…

…and that was definitely something he _didn't _want to experience again, thank you very much.

He counted out his fare and handed it to the taxi driver, before trudging out of the car. He fumbled for his keys from his pocket, and let himself in the house.

Poking his head into the living room, he found it to be silent. Naturally, Feliciano would be sleeping.. it _was _something in the morning, after all…

"Spain," he muttered absently. "A country," he added, before closing his eyes and sighing.

He'd repeated that same fucking thought in his mind a fucktillion times, why wasn't it in his system yet? "Still looks like a fuckin' human to me," He sighed as he dumped what few belongings he carried with him onto his desk. A shower would have been nice… but if he did… there was no way he'd be able to sleep for the rest of the night. Not that it was looking good for him, regardless… "Fuck it," he thought, as he grabbed a clean shirt and a pair of shorts from his cupboard. He pulled his towel from the hook behind the door, before creeping out towards the bathroom.

"Why don't I just continue my life like I always have? Maybe I can just ignore the fact I'll be getting older and Antonio, who's already more than five fucking hundred years older than me is forever twenty-five," he scowled. Yeah, he was jealous of him for being forever in his twenties. And besides, being a country couldn't be that hard, right? Antonio didn't really do anything other than attend… well did he have to do anything? Meetings, perhaps?

Wait, what about wars? Did he go to war? But how long's it been since the last war? He was always bad at history, so none of those questions had an answer he knew. Shoving on his clothes, he messily dried his hair with his towel and jumped into bed without brushing it. That wasn't as important as his sleep. Plus, he was getting tired of the same thoughts drumming in his head.

But lying on his bed, he was affected by yet another problem. More so, Antonio as a person. Not as a country, but as a person. His words, which were uttered hours ago, still rang loud and clear in his ears. They drummed through his head, not leaving him alone, those moments refusing to leave his memory.

"Get out of my head and let me sleep, bastard!" he muttered to himself, pinching himself lightly as he turned over once more. He clenched his fingers, and frowned slightly. Biting his lip, he sighed. He'd never really been told that he'd been loved before – by someone other than his direct family, and Lovino knew he had some sort of feelings towards the energetic Spaniard. A week ago he'd have called it love. Now… he closed his eyes in defeat. He was just way too fucking confused to call it anything now. Why the fuck did emotions have to be so… retarded? He felt so girly for lulling himself to sleep by thinking about love. Ugh.

-x-

Thank god it was Saturday. Well, not that he worked anyway, but still…Lovino groaned as he rolled over his bed, and opened one eye to the digital clock on his nightstand. "God dammit," he muttered, as he slowly threw off the sheets and climbed out of bed. He should have grown out of sleeping until 1pm _years _ago, really.

He stepped out of his room, still groggy, and heard Ludwig's voice from afar. Shuddering, he retreated back through the door."Dammit, why does he always have to be here?" he asked himself, flopping back on his bed. And, having nothing else to do, he pulled out his guitar. Pulling the first string he felt, his eyes widened slightly. "What the…" he muttered, realizing that it was horribly out of tune. Frowning, he turned the little knob slowly…. Carefully…

"Ow! Fucking shit!" he cursed, snapping his hand back instinctively. He shook it, muttering under his breath, before realizing something else. "Oh you're fucking kidding me," he said blankly, as he pulled the now broken string between his fingers. Realization dawned on him, and he suddenly realized what he'd done. "Oh god, did I just… oh my god, fuck fuck fuck!" he exclaimed, fingers clenching. Dropping the guitar on his bed, he did the first thing that came to mind.

Which was, of course, call Antonio.

"Come on, bastard, pick up already!" he said into the phone. "Come on, hurry the fu- Hello?" he said loudly, as soon as the other end picked up.

"Lovi?" came Antonio's voice.

"Well yeah, it's my phone isn't it?" he scoffed. Wait, he couldn't get sidetracked. Damn Antonio and his contagious cheerfulness, able to influence even the likes of Lovino. "Um… well you see," he started awkwardly.

Silence on the other end indicated that Antonio was listening, and Lovino mentally swore. "Well I… I kind of…" he bit his lip. "I broke a string," he said finally.

Silence remained on Antonio's side of the line, when suddenly the sound filling the Italian's ears was the sound of hysterical laughter.

"S-shut up bastard! It's not fucking funny!" Lovino yelled, cheeks flushing red slightly. "I don't know how to fix it!" he complained, pouting slightly.

Antonio explained that he'd never had that problem before (bastard was probably lying) but that he'd like to see it.

"Why do you need to see it? You can't fix it… can you? I might as well just take it to a shop or something, right?" asked Lovino.

"Ahaha~ Lovi, you'd probably scare any shop owner to the point they'd close when they see you come around the corner~" he laughed.

This, however, didn't amuse Lovino. "Bastard, you're not funny," he frowned. "But fine, if you want to see it that bad I'll show you… I don't know, sometime soon," he sighed.

"Alright, see you soon!" came Antonio's voice, before the sound of a dial tone.

"Piece of…" he stopped himself. He felt like crap now, having broken a string trying to tune it. But, that's what happens when it's always _Antonio_ who tunes this piece of …. This instrument.

"Goddammit Antonio, this is why I wanted you to teach me how to tune it myself," he mumbled, still holding the string between his thumb and index finger. Closing his eyes, he slumped forward in defeat. There went his peaceful weekend. Throwing it back in the case, he zipped it up and put it near the door. Great, now he was all hyped up and needed refreshment.

"Feliciano," he called, taking a few steps into the lounge. "Is there any food?"

"Lovino!" exclaimed Feliciano, putting down his bass and proceeding to envelope him in yet another 'bro-hug'. "You didn't come home last night, were you at Antonio's?" he asked worriedly.

"Y-yeah, just the usual happened," he muttered absently, checking his phone.

Feliciano's eyes lighted up. "Ooh, are you and Antonio-"

"W-wait, no! Not like that!" said Lovino hurriedly, looking around in case he happened to be listening. Ludwig was looking away, trying to be polite and tune out. "N-Not like that at all! I just fell asleep on his sofa, dammit!"

Feliciano merely grinned. "If you say so, fratello~" he said, before turning around. "Luddy just came over again, so there's a pizza in the oven," he explained, gesturing towards the blonde. At the mention of the German, Lovino's happiness meter (which was already low to start with anyway) dropped a few degrees. His lips pressed together slightly, and his eyes grew harder.

He had a question ask, but being the polite guy he was, would wait until his total airhead of a brother left the premises.

Which, thankfully, he did almost immediately after.

"I'll go check on it now, ve~!" he announced, giggling slightly, before sauntering out of the room, leaving Lovino alone with Ludwig.

The second the door closed, Ludwig opened his mouth to speak. "Look-"

"Ah, shush," Lovino snapped, pressing a finger to his lips, eyes glaring daggers towards Ludwig. "Let me speak first," he said, a mocking tone to his voice.

Ludwig frowned, eyes darkening slightly. "Fine," he simply replied, not showing any other emotion. Damn, he was good at masking how he felt.

Lovino thought he'd start easy, by dropping a few hints about what he was going to ask anyway. Better to start subtly, right?

Sitting back down on the sofa, Lovino took a breath in. Actually, fuck subtle. He didn't have time; it didn't take long to take a pizza out of the oven, even if you were Feliciano.

"So, are you a country?" he asked casually, as he picked up the previous day's newspaper from the coffee table.

Ludwig gave no reply, but merely swallowed in thought. He thought it would be a good idea to play unaware spectator card. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, looking away slightly.

If any answer was going to piss Lovino off that day, it would be that one. Crumpling the newspaper to the side, he leapt off the sofa and took menacing steps towards the blonde. "Don't act like a dumbfuck, please. I already knew you were one, but really?" he asked, waving his arms in the air in frustration.

He saw Ludwig open his mouth to retort some other form of defence, but Lovino beat him to it. "Look, Antonio's told me everything, better to just spill now than get found out later, right?" he sighed, sitting back on the couch. "Or I could have _mi fratello_ ask you," he added bitterly.

At that, Ludwig tensed slightly. Raising a hand to his forehead, he sighed. "Fine. Yes. I'm Germany," he said, clearly annoyed by these questions.

Although Lovino was prepared for this answer, the words still sent a shiver down his spine. Feeling slightly (not really) triumphant from finally getting a reply from this guy, he smoothed out the newspaper. "Then I'm guessing you haven't told him?" he asked.

At this, Ludwig looked slightly uncertain, and chose not to answer. And judging by the smug/angry look Lovino was giving him now, what Antonio had told him was right. Lovino was good at picking up hidden truths…

Dammit, why did Feliciano have to be such an idiot? Lovino frowned. He would have gone and told Feliciano right away, but he realized that his brother had a completely different outlook on the world to him, and was actually unsure how he'd react.

Sighing, he stood up. "Just don't hurt him, okay?" he asked quietly. Damn, he felt that those words sounded girly, so he decided to make them manlier. Somehow. "Or I'll … kill… no…" he paused for a bit, thinking. "Just don't do it," he decided. Since nothing he did would probably _hurt _the fucking _country _anyway.

He turned to walk out of the room, when the door slid open again. "Oh, Lovino? Where are you going?" cried Feliciano, running up to him with a plate of pizza in his arms.

"Just out… shopping centre or something," he said, grabbing a slice of pizza from the plate.

"Not to Antonio's?" asked Feliciano, biting into his slice.

Lovino stared, a feigned look of offense plastered on. "I have other friends, you know," he said, to his brother, and turned to Ludwig. "I still hate you, by the way," he announced, before stuffing the rest of his pizza in his mouth, and storming back into his bedroom.

-x-

Lovino's eyes traced over Antonio, watching the Spaniard turn the guitar a few times over. He watched as tanned fingers ran over the strings, shaking his head slightly.

"Wow, Lovino. I won't lie, you never cease to amaze me," he laughed lightly. "I played this for a lot longer than you did, and never broke it," he teased, putting it back in the case

The Italian felt his face turn red, before turning away from Antonio. "Bastard, it's your fault," he said accusingly. "If you didn't insist on tuning this instrument every time and actually let me _learn _how, maybe this wouldn't have happened!" he pouted.

"Ah, no matter. We can just go get it fixed, okay?" he said soothingly, giving Lovino a pat on the head.

"Bastard," Lovino muttered again, pushing Antonio away. Partly due to embarrassment and partly due to… being freaked at the unnaturalness that was Antonio. He shivered, reminding himself once more that he wasn't a human but Spain. He really hoped he'd get over it – completely over it – soon.

-x-

They sat at a small, wooden table with a chair on either side, next to the large window of the café. It was quaint, and quiet, for the café was quite empty. Not that he'd admit it, but Lovino rather enjoyed the peace and quiet; he wasn't really a friendly person apparently, so he was used to it. Staring at the menu, Lovino fidgeted around with his hands under the table.

"Well? Have you decided on anything you'd like?" came Antonio's voice.

"N-not yet, dammit! We came in like five minutes ago!" stuttered Lovino, scanning over the printed words again. Damn it, Antonio's gaze was all over him, and it was making Lovino nervous.

"Ah, okay, just take your time then~" he replied, as he called over a waitress. "Just a cappuccino thanks," he said calmly, giving her one of his killer smiles. Lovino watched as she blushed slightly, mumbled something, and ran off behind the counter. He didn't quite like this gesture, and kicked Antonio under the table.

"O-w-w! Loviii!" he complained, wincing slightly. "What was that for?" he asked, now rubbing his leg with his hand.

"As if you couldn't- "he started, but stopped. He slapped himself mentally; this was Antonio he was talking to. He wouldn't have noticed that girl's looks if she' d been three feet away from him. "Never mind, dammit," he pouted, hiding behind the menu.

The waitress returned, flicking her long blonde hair behind her shoulder as she passed the mug of coffee towards Antonio. "Here you go sir," he smiled, blinking several times. Lovino cleared his throat loudly, and the girl gave him a bored look. "Yes?" he asked.

"I'll have a latte, please," he said, shooting her a look.

She frowned at him slightly, before returning to her overly-cheerful mode. "Sure thing, coming right up!" she winked, as she turned away back towards the counter.

After shooting a death-glare at the waitress, Lovino could enjoy peace, quiet, latte and Antonio without interruption.

"So Lovino," began Antonio, watching the Italian carefully.

"Yes?" he replied, placing his cup down.

"Well, you see," he said sheepishly, laughing slightly and a hand scratching his head. Lovino tutted. "Well I was wondering… you know how your hair… there's always this bit of hair that sticks out," he laughed.

Lovino suddenly had a serious expression on his face. "And?" he said shortly.

"Well… uh, do you like gel it up every day or something? Or … does it … always stay like that naturally?" he asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

Lovino had to look away to avoid those large, green eyes that belonged to the Spaniard. "It's just some stupid… I don't know, genetic defect or something," he decided. "My brother and I both have one, and … it doesn't do any- CHIGI!" he cried, and he felt it get tugged by a pair of hands. "B-bastard! W-w-w-what the hell do you think you're doing, dammit!" he swore, slapping Antonio's hand away from him.

Surprised, Antonio jerked back. "Whoa, calm down Lovino! I'm sorry, I didn't know that I'd get that kind of reaction from you!" he laughed, a faint blush creeping to his cheeks. Lovino didn't dare see his reflection, be knew that it was probably red as red could be.

"Fuck you!" he frowned, crossing his arms.

The two talked about everyday things, ranging from the weather to the soccer league to the latest episode of a television drama. They left the café at about two-thirty, and Antonio really wanted to go the to _fucking park. _"What the fuck?" Lovino thought, as he walked behind the overly-cheerful, caffeine crazy Spaniard, who was currently in the process of dramatically walking down the path. "The park, really?" he sighed.

The two sat on a park bench, the sun shining lightly upon them. Lovino was asking questions about 'countryism', as he called it, and Antonio was answering them as they came.

"Before you were sick and that was because of your country's economy," he started. "Can you get sick without it affecting Spain?" he asked.

"Ah, about that… I can get sick due to my country, for example if there was an outbreak of the flu there I'd most likely get it too… but if there's an outbreak of flu here in U.S.A., I could catch it as a human, but it won't affect my country because geographically-"

"Okay, I get it!" laughed Lovino. It actually surprised him how smart Antonio could sound sometimes, using such big words like 'geographically'.

…Well English was never one of Lovino's best subjects either. And geography had a_ lot_ to do with Antonio.

"You're cute when you laugh, Lovi," Antonio smiled.

This statement caused Lovino to blush. "S-shut up, dammit!" he pouted. Antonio merely laughed in response. "W-what's Italy like?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, Italy?" replied Antonio. He hummed. "He's a bit like you, actually," he laughed. "Short tempered, insists he's stylish and all that…"

"Hey, are you suggesting that I'm not stylish?" questioned Lovino, a look of feigned offense.

"Ahaha, no not at all, Lovi!" he smiled, lowering his hand. It happened to fall on top of Lovino's, causing the Italian to blush furiously. But neither of them moved their hands away.

-x-

**LAME SEXUAL INNUENDO AND ENDING IS LAME, REFLECTS THE AUTHOR …**

**No guitar = Toni and Lovi fluff bonding time c; *SHOT*  
AND THERE'S THE ANSWER TO YOUR QUESTIONS; ITALY IS ANOTHER GUY. Only one, because when Italy unified , the other one disappeared. Yeah I'm horrible, I know.**

**OKAY SO SCHOOL OCCUPIES MY TIME, MAN. EVERY DAY I HAVE LIKE 3 HOURS OF FREE TIME AFTER I GET HOME. So I'm sorry ; e ; ~ And you all probably hate me because this is a kind of filler chapter but I'll say this; **_**I think it's too early to jump to the next part of the plot**_** .But I promise there's plot in the next chapter and I'll update quicker, definitely! **

**STAY COOL BY REVIEWING. (: YOU PEOPLE ARE AMAZING!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning: Boring story time ahead and it may/may not make sense. Maybe this is why I hate writing serious plot…  
Fanfictiondotnet is giving me Error 2, anyone know a fix? **

-x-

Lovino couldn't stop himself from smirking slightly as he walked up the metal stairs leading towards Antonio's place. Of course he wasn't smiling because he was seeing _Antonio, _no of course not.

…well, that was part of the reason. The other reason was the fact he had the handle of a large, black case clasped between fingers. The brunette hummed to himself, as he rummaged for the spare key the Spaniard had given him earlier. Feeling adventurous, he kicked the door open after hearing the click of it being unlocked.

"Hm?" came an airy voice, turning to the cause of the loud noise. "Ah, _cheri_, your little boy toy is here," he said, glancing at Lovino making his way through the door. He gave a small wink at the Italian, and gave Antonio an affectionate pat somewhere further south than Lovino hoped he was seeing. Lovino decided to pretend he didn't just hear that, or that at least, it wasn't about him.

"Francis!" hushed Antonio, flicking him with his fingers as he made his way past. "Don't call him that, I thought you knew better!" he scolded, but Lovino couldn't help but notice the childish grin on the duo's faces. He felt his face go warm as he stared at the Spaniard's handsome face, illuminated by his laugh, looking almost radiant….

Lovino pinched his arm. "Eww, did I… I really just think that? What the fuck is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he unzipped the case. "Bastard, I brought it here because I don't trust myself tuning this thing," he muttered. "So you better teach me, dammit! Next time you're paying if it breaks!" he frowned.

"You're right, the kid _does _have an attitude," sniffed Francis. "_Bonjour_, Lovino, remember me?" he asked, eyes twinkling as he lay on the sofa sending _those_ looks towards him.

Lovino was feeling lucky, and slightly snarky. "How could I forget you, _France_?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He took great amusement at the surprised look on the Frenchman's face.

But Francis' features changed in a matter of seconds. He'd gone from flirtatious and teasing to cold and serious. But this look – glare, to be more exact – wasn't aimed at Lovino, but instead towards one of his closest friends. "You told him?" he hissed, eyes narrowing

Antonio gave a surprised look, raising his arms. "Well you're the one who told me that I should tell him some time, remember?" Antonio replied, evidently confused.

"Well I didn't think you'd actually tell him!" retorted Francis.

"Well I don't want to keep secrets, Francis," he said, raising his eyebrows strangely. Apparently it was some kind of signal between the two of them, before Francis seemed to understand exactly what it meant.

"… Fine. Do as you please," he huffed, closing his eyes.

Lovino wondered if it was just him imagining that slightly … upset part to Francis' statements. It was almost as if… No, Lovino couldn't quite get it, but there was something about the way he spoke that seemed… sentimental almost? He now felt a little guilty for saying it like that, but hey, the damage was done. He lowered his head and set his concentration on unzipping the case that contained the guitar, and gave a small smile as the ever-familiar shape of the instrument glazed his sight.

Whoever fixed the instrument also did a lot of touch-ups. No longer was the guitar dusty and worn-looking, but instead polished and glazed nice and shiny. The string had been replaced, and the pegs all tuned to absolute perfection. If the case didn't have his name on it, Lovino would find it sort of hard to recognize it, having not known it other than the old and used appearance. Now it looked brand-new (kind of) and it felt more… fresh. Like it was really his, not just... Antonio's ex-guitar.

Antonio sauntered towards the sofa, and leaned against it with his arm. He watched Lovino like a hawk as he hoisted the guitar into his arms, and let the pick run against the strings delicately. Even Francis tilted his head towards the Italian, eyes glancing over him.

"Well?" asked Antonio, eyes eager. "Going to play something?" he asked.

Lovino swallowed. "Well," he began sheepishly, reaching for his bag. "There's this song I printed the other day and er, I thought it was kind of…" he paused. He was going to say 'pretty', but he realized how damn _unmanly _of him that would be. "It was pretty cool," he decided. He prayed that the song didn't sound corny, since he was pretty bad when it came to deciding on these things.

There was a moment of silence throughout the room, as he began to play the tune. Nobody said a word, until about thirty seconds into the song, when Francis broke the concentration abruptly.

"Antonio," he said quietly. Francis stared at Antonio icily. It was such a glare that Lovino hadn't witnessed before, and to tell the truth it sort of… scared him. "Wasn't this…"

Antonio said nothing, and it made Lovino wonder whether the two nations had some kind of telepathic communication between one another as he held the guitar awkwardly in his hands. He was really beginning to wonder if he'd done something wrong.

Lovino observed as a long, tense silence filled the room. His eyes darted between the Frenchman and Spaniard, wondering who or what the bloody hell they were talking about. He finally decided to speak up. "Uh, sorry to ruin this little moment between the two of you but… am I uh, interrupting something… or something…" he said awkwardly, making random gestures with his hands. He was half turned towards the door, and was tempted to make an escape if he was indeed interrupting something.

Francis opened his mouth to say something, but Antonio managed to cut in just before him. "N-no, we're just…" he paused, really unsure of what to say.

"The similarities are remarkable, _cher_," commented Francis, staring out the window.

"The what?" asked Lovino, frowning slightly.

"Both Lovino and…" he stopped.

"What?" Lovino insisted, now slightly agitated.

Antonio watched as Francis swallowed, and his eyes looked away. "What, after hundreds of years you _still _can't bring yourself to say her name?" he asked, earning a glare from Francis. The Spaniard scoffed as he realized he'd hit the nail on the head. "Come on, she was just a human," he smirked.

When he heard this, Lovino felt slightly offended. His heart was screaming '_well I'm sorry we're not all immortal personifications of the fucking earth,' _but his brain knew better, and kept his mouth shut.

Francis scoffed. "We're human too," he said indignantly. "And so is your friend over here," he added, nodding towards Lovino.

Antonio winced as he remembered Lovino was in the room. "N-no offense, Lovi," he said awkwardly, giving him an apologetic look. "You know what I mean."

Eyes narrowing, Francis sighed. "Antonio, I can't even remember what she looks like anymore. It's been centuries."

A shiver went through Lovino as he heard this. He wasn't sure if this thought had occurred to him previously, but it sounded extremely daunting right now. He was mortal, and Antonio immortal, to a certain extent. But regardless, Lovino was pretty sure he'd be outlived. And hearing Francis state how he couldn't remember what… whoever the hell it was they were talking about looked like, wouldn't that be the same about him and Antonio in the future? He'd most likely be forgotten, too.

"You're terrible," he murmured. "Would that mean you'll forget what Gilbert looks like?" Antonio asked, sounding serious.

"Of course not. I knew him longer than… L-Laura." He said her name to make a point to Antonio that he _could _say her name.

"Uh, who's Laura?" asked Lovino, although he knew by their conversation it was someone who was most likely… _dead _right now.

"She came from the town that wrote the song you were playing," explained Antonio. "We were living there once and you playing it all of a sudden kind of… brought back memories," he said.

"That weren't meant to be remembered," added Francis, but shut his mouth after a glare from Antonio.

"Uh, a long while ago Francis, Gilbert and I were kind of … adventurous and would move around towns a lot. To keep the story short, we met this girl Laura, and…" Antonio paused. "As Francis said earlier, you're a lot like her. At first we approached her as a joke. Francis being himself, as well as Gilbert, tried to hit off with her… she wasn't that stupid."

"You mean we were just unlucky," insisted Francis.

Antonio rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say. Anyway, we ended up becoming friends but… we were a bit scared to tell her that we were countries. I mean, even these days how many people would believe that I'm actually Spain? They'd probably throw me into an asylum," he smirked. "It was a lot worse back then. So we kept it to ourselves."

"Laura wasn't dumb though," said Francis, no longer lying lazily on the sofa, but sitting upright. "She did suspect something, and she even asked us… But we didn't tell her."

"One day she followed us and heard us talking about a war. She stood behind us, and said nothing," said Antonio quietly. His voice was faltering slightly, although he tried his best to keep it steady. "It'd been more than three years since we'd met her, and she felt offended and cheated that we kept that secret for so long," he murmured.

Lovino didn't see what the story had to do with him, but he was listening purely because it would probably be rare for him to hear stories of Antonio's younger days – not just stuff in history textbooks.

"Ah, thinking over all this again makes me feel so sentimental," said Antonio, scratching the back of his neck. '_Just like a human,' _he thought, but he didn't dare voice that with Lovino around. "I don't even know why she took it so badly, I'm sure she probably had secrets that she didn't want to share either, right? Besides, we were going to leave soon anyway…"

Francis stared at Antonio like he was retarded. "You _do _know that she liked you right?"

There was silence. Lovino found this conversation that was basically between Francis and Antonio pretty awkward to be stuck in.

"Yeah," Antonio said, looking back. "I also know that _you _loved her."

"And we all agreed we wouldn't repeat our mistakes, remember?" said Francis.

Antonio frowned. "Yeah, I know… that's why I'm telling Lovino this now, I mean, you don't see him running off in tears, right?" he asked.

It took a moment for Francis to realize that he was talking to _Antonio _of all people, and that he probably didn't get what he was trying to hint. He wasn't even sure if he understood what he'd meant by 'like', but he decided to ask that another time.  
'_You idiot, I'm talking about you and Lovino!' _he wanted to yell. But he refrained from doing so, probably because he knew he'd gain much amusement from watching their (possible) relationship grow.

"Yeah, you're right," Francis simply said. "Anyway, I just remembered that I have a meeting with Arthur in a bit, so I'll be heading off," he announced, getting up from his seat and giving Antonio a friendly slap to the shoulder. He paused over Lovino, and put a hand over his head. "Don't get too cocky, now," he smiled, just loud enough for the Italian to hear. "Remember that you're just a human."

Lovino scowled at him and stepped on his foot. "I'm pretty sure I'd know that," he retorted, glowering at him.

"Just making sure, we wouldn't want things to happen just like last time, now would we?" he winked, before shutting the door abruptly.

Antonio waited a few moments after Francis left before breaking the tension. "Sorry," he offered, sitting next to Lovino on the sofa. Lovino just shrugged, lying back on the cream furniture.

"It was kind of my fault, wasn't it?" he said, scratching his head.

"No, don't blame yourself, I shouldn't have gone and said all that stuff… man, Francis is probably pissed at me now," he laughed awkwardly.

Lovino frowned. "But I'm sure he can't stay mad at you for long, you guys have known each other for…"

Antonio laughed again. "You'll be surprised, Lovi. Last time we had a fight, Francis didn't talk to me for 3 years! And the longest time he refused to talk to another person was 17 years," he said, giving a look at Lovino.

"That… sounds just like him," smirked Lovino. "Stupid pervert. Anyway… so all that crap about last time I kept hearing was about this Laura chick?" he asked.

"Ah, yeah… After that incident with her… it really shocked us, since we were really good friends and all. You're the first human I've actually really become friends with since then," he confided. "Oh, and just so you know… I wasn't er, you know. _Together_ with her or anything."

"Aww, how touching," replied Lovino sarcastically. "And uh, sure. If you say so."

"I'm serious!" frowned Antonio, giving Lovino a friendly shove. "I didn't want you to go running off like Laura did, that's why I told you," he pouted. "Otherwise you wouldn't have a clue right now that you were talking to the almighty Spain, the country of passion!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Lovino smirked.

He looked up to find Antonio peering at him closely. "Hmm, Francis has a point. You are pretty similar to her," he murmured.

Lovino stared back at him, and frowned on purpose.

"Yeah, you're both pretty scary," he decided.

"Pft, whatever," he said, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I feel like stepping out now. I've kind of been put off the mood to play guitar," he sniffed. He waited for Antonio to say something.

"Oh, alright then. See you Lovi," he waved.

Lovino had hoped that Antonio would offer to take him somewhere, or at least drive him home – looking out the window, it looked cold and miserable outside – but no such luck. "Is it alright if I leave the guitar here? I'll get it another day," he said, pulling on his jacket.

"Mm, sure thing," replied Antonio, busy filling a cup with milk.

"Alright then," called Lovino. "See you," before closing the door. He stood there for a bit, before making his way back down those damned stairs.

But he took his time, taking each step to mull over the things he'd heard both just then and the days before. What would he have done if Antonio hadn't told him about his country-ism now, and left it for a long time just like he did with Laura?

Lovino could understand why Laura did what she did. He assumed that Francis and Antonio didn't quite grasp why, since three years seemed like nothing to them.

-x-

"Hey _fratello_~" came Feliciano's ever-cheerful voice. "Where's your guitar?" he asked.

"Er, at Antonio's," Lovino replied, opening the fridge. "Uh, can I ask you something?"

Feliciano paused and looked up at his older brother. "Ve, of course~?"

Lovino swallowed. Damn it, if that potato bastard hadn't said anything, then what he was about to say would be incredibly stupid…

"You know that Ludwig guy," he began, watching Feliciano's body language carefully. He scowled as he noticed Feliciano's sudden interest as soon as that name was mentioned. He'd start with something easy. "How old is he?"

Feliciano's hands tensed slightly, and he smiled. "Ve, he's 20 just like me," he said.

Lovino could tell already that his brother was lying. But he felt nice, and didn't want to make his brother say more if he wasn't already blurting it out. He'd got the answer he was looking for – Germany had told his brother what he was, and that was all he cared for.

"Oh, that's pretty young," he said, laughing at those words on this inside. "He's younger than me."

"Ve~," replied Feliciano, as he flicked through the pages in his book.

He took his pasta from the microwave, and shut himself in his room, where he turned on his laptop, while lying on his bed eating pasta. Man, he felt comfortable. He felt relaxed to the extent that he'd forgotten that he'd set his phone on silent.

He was too busy surfing the internet and reading a fashion magazine – because he was just that goddamn stylish – to hear it vibrating against his desk.

x-x-x

**OOC moody France anyone? Laura = Human!Belgium, because I didn't want to make a spontaneous OC without it sounding shifty. I was using Elise (I really like that name!) but I just found out today that it was a possible name for Liechtenstein, and now I can't get Spain/Liechtenstein out of my head.**

**I wrote this chapter but it really didn't sound right so I've rewritten it so many times I'm still not satisfied. I thought of this as part of the plot originally, but now when I actually write it out it doesn't sound very appealing/interesting. It actually sounds really irrelevant to everything else… Feedback on it, please? Because if it's lame I'll think of something else and possibly change it, or maybe take it as a learning experience.**

**OH – ONE MORE QUESTION: Do you guys feel like there needs to be more Spamano in this? Or is the current bits and pieces of fluff between them enough? **


	9. April Fools bitchez

When Lovino checked his phone the next day, he found 10 missed calls. Noticing that they were from Antonio, he called him back almost immediately.

"Hello?" he answered, in that sexy Spanish voice of his.

Lovino felt his heart melt. "E-er Antonio? You called me?" he said nervously.

"Oh yeah! Watch this Lovino!" he said happily.

"Eh?" he said, but was interrupted by the Spaniard.

"Fusososososo~ Fusososososo~" he chanted.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" asked Lovino, his fingers starting to feel weird.

"Just watch Lovi! I found this cool spell that will make you immortal so you can be with me forever!"

"Wait, what? I never agreed to this! T-the fuck?" yelled Lovino.

"Oh wait, no I –" said Antonio suddenly. "Crap!"

Antonio rushed over to the Vargas residence as fast as he could, but it was too late. When he opened Lovino's door, he found that the sexy Italian that once resided there was now nothing but an ironing board.

"Oh well, at least now I can keep him forever," he said indifferently, picking it up and bringing it home.

The end.

-x-

**APRIL FOOLS! *SHOT*. Why did I even do this? I never see people on ffdotnet make April Fool's jokes I mean STOP BEING SO SERIOUS WITH YOUR USUK ANGST OR SOMETHING HAVE SOME FUN SAHKLFJD - I'll delete this chapter when I have the next one written, though. xD;**

**I was also using this as a notice that I might not update for a while. I'm going to Vietnam and Malaysia next Thursday for two weeks and it takes up almost all my 2-week term break so I probably won't be able to write. Please don't hate me. ; e ; **

**Until next time, don't have a stick up your ass c:*SHOT TO DEATH***


	10. Chapter 9

**So guys… I'm not even going to try and explain why I haven't been updating except school. School is why. So instead, kick back, relax and enjoy this (wordy and full of digress) chapter-thing. Not sure when I'll be updating next ahurr, sorry! Also, I laugh at myself, in the first chapter I said "I don't intend for this to be a long story." DERP. **

-x-

Antonio frowned as he locked his phone, setting it down on the dining table. He sunk into the sofa, and closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands, confused. It hadn't even been an hour since Lovino had left his house, so why was he already thinking about him? Why did he feel compelled to call him, to invite him out to do something tomorrow, when they had been spending so much time together already? A thought kept creeping through his mind, but he tried his best to push it away.

It was that time, several months ago, where Francis had been watching as Lovino practiced his guitar, eyes narrowed in concentration. He had called Antonio over to him and asked a simple question.

"Do you like him?" he had asked, curiosity brimming his eyes. Of course, he had meant it as a joke, and even Antonio, who was well, Antonio, could understand that it was a joke. He knew, of course, it had to be a joke. They both knew well enough that they were pretty close to immortal. They knew that humans had short lives, and that pursuing love, if not with another nation, was pointless. All the nations knew it, and it was hard for them to accept. How easy it was, to talk to a human, to make friends, and in what seemed like an instant feel attracted to them…

Some would say it was karma for the people they had killed, physically, mentally, emotionally. The family of the deceased, killed in wars or other means, forever mourning their loved ones. The people who had died without a chance to say goodbye to their families, and the turmoil they felt, all returning back one day to them. It was their turn to feel as if they had lost someone incredibly important to them.

Antonio broke into a grin, "I shouldn't have to answer that, should I?" he had replied. They both had a little inside-joke about it for a while, but as the Spaniard got up to cook, his mood fell. He was suddenly thinking over that topic more than he should. He shook his head – no, no way was he falling in love with a human. He had never before, and he had seen how it hurt others. He knew that it was to be avoided.

Now he lay on his bed, the feelings of confusion twice-fold, this time completely uncertain of himself. Before he had always been so sure that he wouldn't fall for a human. But now, what was this he was feeling? He hadn't really been in love before, so he had trouble putting a finger on emotions.

Sure, he'd experienced hate. Loyalty, hate, annoyance, rage, they were all common amongst others. Butnever love, as countries they weren't expected to ever fall in love.

Because.. love always seemed so..

Human.

Human, is what it was, and human wasn't what they were.

His confusion, mixed with the unusually warm temperature as of recent left Antonio feeling slightly dizzy, and after attempting to cool himself off by removing several articles of clothing to no avail, decided to take a shower. The tap turned on, the warm water spilling over as he stood there blankly, as he couldn't seem to rid his head of Lovino. He tossed in his bed, unable to sleep, his head pounding for unknown reasons. He swallowed thickly as he sat up and glanced at the clock. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined to shut out whatever it was making unable to forget him, as well as make him feel miserable.

-x-

After being left alone, Antonio's words had well and truly settled in Lovino's mind. He had repeated the words to himself over and over again, the story he and Francis had told of their past – one of many, he'd assumed – and couldn't help but feel slightly… depressed.

Usually he didn't mind so much the fact that he would grow old and pass on. His mortality, it was normal. He was normal. But after hearing Francis and Antonio speak of Laura's life as if it was just a mere moment, hardly any time to them, and began as something to pass the time almost…

He gave a sigh of defeat. Why was he feeling so worked up over this anyway? What happened to him hating Antoino's guts for being a stupid suspicious bastard just a few months ago? Now he felt more at ease with him than he did with his own brother.

Speaking of brothers, Lovino couldn't hear his brother happily humming to himself in the living room, talking to his paintings (seriously, what the hell?) like he usually did. He stepped out of his room, and found himself face-to-face with a note, his name written neatly on the top.

_Lovino,_

_I've gone out. There's pasta in the fridge in case you're hungry._

_Feliciano_

"Of course you're not home…" he murmured, scrunching up the note. He was feeling pretty shit still, and he had considered throughout the night asking Feliciano, who he assumed knew of this whole country-human shit seeing as his… boyfriend was fucking Germany or something. He shivered at the thought. There was no doubt Feliciano had gone to see that blonde guy anyway. If only he'd been awake earlier, he'd have considered tagging along. For knowledge reasons, though. Not for anything else.

He felt his pocket for his phone, but found it to be absent. After thinking longer than he should have, he remembered that he'd left it on his desk the night before. Running back into his room, he grabbed it and flipped it open.

"What the…" he muttered, as he saw the 2 missed calls and 3 text messages – the calls from Antonio, and one text message from Francis.

He first checked the message.

_Are you free? I want to ask you something. _

_- Francis._

Lovino rubbed his head, he was definitely free, but what did Francis want? What could he possibly want from, Lovino narrowed his eyes, he who was 'just a human' as he'd so kindly stated just the night before?

Without thinking twice, Lovino clicked the green button on his mobile, and waited for the phone to ring. "Hello?" asked Francis.

"It's me, Lovino," he said through the receiver, "what do you want to talk to me about?" he asked.

Francis coughed, "I'd like you to come first before we discuss things, isn't that polite or whatnot?"

Lovino bit his tongue, "Sorry, I don't exactly have a lot of time to throw around freely," he lied. Damn, he needed a job so he could have an excuse from time to time. "I'd like to know whether meeting up with you will just end up being a big waste of my time."

He heard a sigh from the other end of the line, "If you insist, it's about Antonio," he said shortly.

There was a pause, and Francis gave a light laugh. "I'm sure you'll come now, right?" he said, and with a lack of better judgement, Lovino had scowled a 'fine' in response, before abruptly ending the call.

Why the fuck didn't he think before he spoke? Now he was in shit, if he was right about what he thought Francis was going to ask him about.

-x-

It turned out Lovino wasn't far from the truth. When he finally reached the small little café in some alleyway in the middle of the city (a rabbit warren, basically), he got a mere wave before Francis began his questioning. And naturally, the first question to escape his lips was more than predictable.

"So, Antonio," he began, sipping his coffee.

"What about him?" replied Lovino, folding his hands over the table and giving suspicious glances at the blonde.

He laughed, "Don't look so scared, I'm not going to bite you!" he smiled, although something about the way he said it made Lovino only shiver more. "So Antonio… is my good friend," he started. "We've known each other for… a long time, let's say. And we look after each other."

"I know him more than anyone else, Lovino, and since he's gotten to know you, I've noticed that he's become a very different person."

The Italian frowned, "And you're going to blame me for it?"

Francis narrowed his eyes slightly, "Partially, maybe," he replied. "It's not a bad thing, I stress. He's become far more carefree and excited, I'll give you that. It's been a long time since he's been this… I don't know how they say it, at peace I guess."

Lovino looked around, avoiding eye contact with the Frenchman as much as he could. He found it awkward sitting there listening to Francis spill his feelings or whatever he was saying about Antonio to him. It didn't even have anything to do with him, as far as he could tell.

"So what's your point?" he asked bluntly, unfazed by the blonde's words.

"I'm asking you, do you like him?"

He swallowed, and looked away. "Of course I like him, he's a good friend to me," he replied. He watched as Francis stared at him, a really, really creepy and uncomfortable stare, and sighed in defeat. "It was worth a try," he shrugged.

Francis almost laughed. "I can read you like a book you know," he lied, but Lovino seemed to believe him well enough. "So, do you?"

"What of it?" mumbled Lovino, looking at the floor and sure that he was probably flushing.

"There we go," smiled Francis, "that's the answer I was looking for." His eyes seemed to twinkle, but Lovino had a sneaking suspicion that maybe, just maybe, Francis saw this as a game. He could tell that no doubt the blonde found amusement in watching he and Antonio's impossible relationship develop. Assuming anything was developing at all. "Of course, I already knew that you'd say ye-"

"So, if you knew, why drag me all the way out here?" he spat.

"Don't you use that tone on me," growled Francis, "I am _trying_ to help you."

"Help me how?" Lovino asked suspiciously.

Francis paused. "He likes you too, you know. He's just too stupid to realise it."

Lovino sucked in, "He can't be that stupid," he muttered. "He's fucking centuries old, he can't be any stupider than me."

"Don't be surprised at how stupid he can actually be, dear."

Lovino felt pissed off at his prying, and stood up, his chair toppling over. "Anything else you wanted to say?" he asked sharply, and when he got no reply, he left the shop, leaving Francis to pay for his drink.

-x-

The week seemed to drag on endlessly. He had called Antonio back, but Antonio had insisted that nothing was wrong and that he merely pocket-dialled his number. Thrice. And Lovino believed him, for some strange reason.

He visited Antonio at one point, but felt uncomfortable around him, feeling him lean over him as he played his guitar made him breathe heavier and his heart pound. He was getting all the chords wrong, and when Antonio moved his fingers to the right string, his reflex was to pull away.

"I'm sorry," Lovino mumbled, as he placed the guitar inside its case, "I guess I feel really out of it, huh?"

Antonio said nothing, but watched him pack up like a hawk. '_Was it something I did?_' he thought. '_Maybe I really shouldn't have been so truthful about who I am, he seems to be more distant ever since we told him about.. about her._'

"I guess I'll come back in a bit. I'll call you."

He nodded, "Take your time. I don't want to pressure you."

And as Lovino descended those too-familiar stairs, he took what Antonio said seriously.

-x-

It had been 10 days since they'd last seen each other, and Lovino was in the public park taking a breather. He felt relaxed, he felt refreshed, but he still felt empty.

And he knew it was because of… Antonio.

Yet, he still couldn't bring himself to seeing him. Or calling him. Or even texting him. He kicked a patch of grass, dust flying everywhere. He ended up visiting a bakery and buying a sandwich, before sitting on the grass at eating it thoughtfully, enjoying the sunshine.

He was fully content to just sit there, watching the clouds or something, when something caught his attention.

Lovino frowned and rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing things, or was that really Antonio perched on the park bench by himself? He was near enough to see that he had the same brown hair and olive complexion Antonio did, but he couldn't be too sure. He crossed one of the roads, and as he did, he saw the man turn to feed the nearby birds some bread. His eyes widened – this was definitely Antonio.

His heart lurched as he realized that it had turned from almost daily contact and visits between the two, to not seeing each other for the past week and a half. He felt excited at the thought of talking to him again, and his body automatically moved towards him.

Should he call his name? No, it should be a surprise. He'd sneak behind him and slap his face or something, call him a bastard, ask where he's been, or maybe…

Lovino never got to finish his thoughts as his mind blacked out.

-x-

**Sorry it sucks, I haven't really been in the mood for writing for ages, but I felt that I should at least try and update… for you guys sake! **


	11. Chapter 10

**Argghh! so basically the reason why I put the story on hold for so long is 1) school and 2) I'm not into Hetalia anymore. But since I hate leaving things unfinished, I'll be finishing this. However, I put in crappy fluff as compensation for not updating \o/ **

**-x-**

The birds surrounding him flew away suddenly, disappearing around the buildings and through the trees as though they had never been there. Antonio sighed, and leaned back, tying up the small paper bag of bread. A strong gust of wind blew through the park, making the trees rustle and his hair blow everywhere. As he stood up, he noticed many of the people staring in one particular direction. Curious, he turned, and saw a crowd of people gathering near the roadside, the murmurs and yells of shock able to be heard from where he was standing.

"Ah, what could be happening now?" he mumbled to himself, as he let his curiosity drag him towards the scene. "What's happened here?" he asked a woman, who was searching her bag.

She pulled out her mobile phone, and turned to Antonio, "A guy got hit by a car, apparently," she said quickly, before dialling three numbers – 911, he presumed.

His face fell, "Oh I see," and he tried to look over the crowd. Surely enough there was a car parked on the road, and he could hear many a few people yelling. The one yelling the loudest of course was the driver.

"He was just standing in the middle of the goddamn road, and it's a bloody one-way street, how am I supposed to _do_ anything to dodge him? God!" he yelled in exasperation. "If anyone's in the wrong here, it's him!" he cried, pointing at the ground.

"Shit," groaned a voice, and a collection of gasps and murmurs erupted throughout the crowd. Whoever was lying on the ground was sitting upright, and was clearly not impressed. "Dick, can't you watch where you're driving?" he slurred, his hand to his forehead. It was a voice familiar to Antonio, and if he had not seen him with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it was Lovino sitting on the road with blood trickling down his arm.

Only it was.

"Hey man, watch it," grumbled someone, as Antonio put his thoughts behind him and made a mad dash through the crowd. He almost knocked over a woman at some point, but why did it matter when it was Lovino sitting there injured? Did they really expect him to stand at the back and patiently wait his turn to catch a glimpse of his friend bleeding from the head?

"L-Lovino!" he said, stumbling slightly as he kneeled over the Italian, "oh my god, what happened?" he asked.

"Well I was nicked by a car, dumbass," he muttered, smirking slightly only to recoil in a sharp pain. "Fucking hurts."

But Antonio wasn't joking, "No shit," he replied lowly, "but that aside, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'll live, probably," he replied. "My head throbs like a bitch though, and I think something happened to my leg," he said. "But I think that guy," he said, glancing at the man who had hit him, "is taking it worse than me."

"Me, taking it worse than you?" said the accused man, "No way man, you were out for a good 5-10 minutes!"

Lovino blinked, "I..I was out?"

"Yes! God, I was so scared that I'd killed you, jesus, you weren't moving and all the blood was coming out of your head, I-I thought I'd go to jail for manslaughter!"

Lovino was uncharacteristically silent, he seemed to have no sharp words or witty comebacks for a change. Or, he was just holding his tongue. Either way, an unruly silence filled the air as the crowd dissipated and both Lovino and the driver sat in silence, paying no regards to one another.

A siren rung in the air as an ambulance arrived, and he sat in stony silence as the paramedics checked his pulse, his heart rate, blood pressure and other medical things, while Antonio sat on the curb watching him with a worried expression. Antonio couldn't even make a conversation with the other guy, because the police were busy questioning him. He tried tuning in on the conversation more out of boredom than nosiness, but all he could make out was a string of, 'He was in my way!' and 'You guys are lucky I didn't bolt!'.

"Yeah," murmured Antonio. "You are." Had it been a hit and run, he would have considered going through every apartment in the city looking for this guy. He had all the time in the world, after all.

"Sir, we'd like to take you to the hospital for a quick check," the paramedic said.

"No, I don't need it," replied Lovino curtly, rising to his feet and running his fingers along the fresh bandage around his head. "This should be enough. The only injury I got was this."

"Sorry sir but it's not our decision, it's just our instr-"

"I said I don't fucking need it!" he yelled, and turned his back to the man. His eyes swept to Antonio, and his gaze lingered on the Spaniard for just a moment, before shaking his head and running in the other direction, a slight limp to his step.

"S-sir!" yelled the paramedic, ripping off his mask, but even if he heard him, Lovino didn't turn back to see him.

"Leave him be, it's always those ones that end up in trouble later on. More money for us, eh?" said the other one, to which the first agreed. Antonio gritted his teeth, springing up from the sidewalk and chasing after Lovino. What exactly was wrong with him?

He eventually caught up to the brunet, and he sighed loudly. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, slightly annoyed. "Why'd you run away like that?"

Lovino sucked in his breath, "It's nothing."

Antonio opened his mouth – probably to yell at Lovino, but decided against it and simply sat beside him on the grass. He didn't have anything to say to him, not when Lovino was in a crook mood. Besides, he was quite content with just sitting in the sunlight with Lovino and stare up at the clouds, trees, buildings, whatever. He was just glad that he was beside him. Did Lovino know how fucking scared he was when he saw his figure hunched over the ground with the smell of blood he was so used to running down his skin?

Next to him, Lovino outstretched his leg and rolled his ankle around, wincing slightly.

"Did it get hurt?" asked Antonio softly, leaning forward slightly.

"Yeah, sprained or something."

"What else?"

Lovino hesitated, "Aside from my head, I got a long graze up my arm from the asphalt, and this huge bruise on my knee."

Antonio almost smiled, "You're pretty lucky, then, I've seen people get… worse than that from so much less," he said, looking away. Part of Lovino was curious to ask what it was, but something inside him told him not to press it. It was already painfully awkward sitting here, especially since Lovino knew that Antonio was probably holding himself back from playing nurse and fawning over him. Sure, he was injured, but he felt fine. The only thing was the annoying stinging in his arm.

"S…so… what have you been up to this past week? It's been a while," he said slowly.

The Italian stiffened, "O-oh, yeah, it has, hasn't it?" he laughed quietly. "I've… I've been pretty busy." A lie. "I was searching for a job, applying at a few places and other crap." Another lie.

"Fun," replied Antonio, and the two drifted back into uncomfortable silence.

"It's been great," Lovino said absently.

Antonio glanced up, "What has?" he questioned.

He was silent for a bit, before speaking again. "Everything, I guess. It's been quite a while since I've met you, and…" he stopped. Where exactly as he going with this? He was saying all these things without a second though.

"It's been what?" he pressed.

Lovino turned stare at the ground, "I've just had a lot of fun, I guess. To be honest, I actually rather… hated the guitar at first, it burned my fingers before they calloused, and I got every chord wrong. It was absolute hell stretching my fingers and tuning the damn thing was the worst. But…"

He turned to face Antonio, and for once he had neither a frown nor a scowl on his face, but rather he was completely calm. He wasn't smiling, but Antonio could tell that he was content. "You made it so much more fun. You never yelled at me, you let me take it at my own pace, and you helped me a lot, even though I'm probably the shittiest person you've ever had to make yourself comfortable with."

"You think?" asked Antonio, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," he murmured. "Everyone's always preferred Feliciano. Even my goddamn friends would get sick of my attitude eventually and talk to him over me. Not only is he more friendly, but he's more artistic and a better cook, he was always the favourite, to everyone," he said, jealously lacing his every word.

"He always has been, and always will be fucking-"

Before he could get another word out, his vision was obscured and his lips occupied. His eyes opened wide in shock, as he sat there on the ground unable to comprehend what was happening. The next thing he knew, he was kissing him back, his body acting on its own. The beginning slow and unsure, but built up to more, his fingers soon interlocking with Antonio's, his free hand wandering around the other's back, and…

Enough, Antonio thought, jerking back. Lovino staggered back, holding out his arm to stop himself from falling, saying nothing but looking at Antonio curiously.

"S…sorry," he said quietly, not making eye contact. He bit his lip, "ah, come on, let's go," he said, getting up abruptly.

"H-Hey, wait up," replied Lovino getting up, but as he did he lost his balance and fell forward. He made a noise as he fell, and Antonio glanced back and gasped when he saw Lovino on the ground. He stifled a laugh. "Don't laugh," he mumbled, slightly red.

"Sorry, but you made a funny noise," he smirked. "Are you okay?" he said as helped him get up.

"Just fine," he replied, "f…fi…."

"Lovino?"

-x-

"It's aftershock," the nurse explained. "Sometimes after an accident, the brain doesn't trigger the effects until well after the incident, like in Mr. Vargas' case. He just has a slight concussion, hardly anything serious, but we've put him to sleep just to be safe. Also, did you know that he had a large gash on his arm?" she asked him.

Antonio shook his head slowly, recalling Lovino say something about his arm earlier, but didn't he say it was just a graze? He thought of those paramedics, and how they'd missed that. Good use they were.

"It was bleeding quite a bit, so we will have to get stitches on that ASAP. Um, Mr…" she trailed.

"A…Vargas," he replied.

"Oh, a relative?" the nurse asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Yeah, his brother."

"Oh good," she smiled. "I was just going to say, that at this time of the day only direct relatives are allowed to be visiting. If that's the case Mr. Vargas, please note that visiting hours end at strictly 8pm, and that there will be a maximum of 3 people visiting at once."

The nurse flashed a big I-really-wish-I-was-anywhere-but-here smile at him, before lowering her head back towards the book in front of her, typing up notes or whatever onto the computer.

"Well that's handy," Antonio murmured to himself, surprised that he was able to pull off a trick like that. To be honest, he was surprised that the nurse bought the lie that he and Lovino were siblings, due to the fact that they didn't look anything alike, really. He was sort of irked at himself for not saying cousin, because that would have been _slightly_ more believable, but that nurse didn't seem to notice. Or care, to be closer to the mark, as he glanced back at her and saw her to be busy on her phone.

He hesitated outside the room. He knew that it was nothing serious, but he was still nervous to go in. Was he awake? No, probably not, since they had induced him into sleep.

He opened the door and poked his head in, and saw Lovino to be sleeping. Well of course he was sleeping, they induced him. He'd be more worried if he _wasn't _sleeping.

Closing his eyes, he turned his head from the bed. Antonio couldn't stand seeing Lovino sleeping, because it made his angry features relax. He didn't frown, and he looked at peace, and it took up so much of his willpower to not stand over him and touch him.

The kiss from earlier flashed in his head, and he swore quietly. That exactly was an example of him not being able to restrain himself, and if he stayed in the room any longer, he was afraid it would happen again. Mumbling an apology to nobody in particular, he got up and opened the door.

"Antonio?"

Oh, it was the brother. Of course he'd run into someone he didn't want to see right now. He didn't want to see _anyone_ right now. Feliciano probably hated him, and underneath that cute exterior his brain was probably screaming, 'this is all your fault! Why didn't you protect him! Now look at him, he's in the fucking hospital.'

He didn't need to hear things he'd already heard in his head a thousand times. He took a glance behind him, and lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered, before dashing out the door, and pretended to not hear the puzzled calling of Feliciano as it echoed in the hall.

-x-

There was a buzz from his mobile as he sat in his car, his head pressed against the steering wheel. He hated hearing that ringtone so much, but for once, he seemed almost relieved to hear it.

"What is it, sir?"

It was the ringtone specifically set for his boss.

".. I understand, I'll come back right away. And I'll stay this time."

-x-

**A/N: IM THE WORST THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HAPPY CHAPTER WHY IS IT SO DEPRESSING AND I RAMBLED AND WHY DOES IT SEEM OOC AND I HAVE REALLY BAD CLIFFHANGERS HELP IM GONNA GO DIE IN MY ROOM NOW  
ALSO WHY IS THIS LIKE TWILGHT ONLY WORSE CAN SOMEONE PLEASE KILL ME?**

**PS: only 2 chapters left! I'll be finishing before February hopefully. **


	12. Chapter 11

Lovino's injuries turned out to be not even a fraction as bad as Antonio had thought them to be. He regained consciousness the next day, and was discharged the day after that after several screenings and simple tests for concussion. He'd spent the first few days after that holed up at home because Feliciano absolutely prohibited him from going anywhere. Not that he could go anywhere anyway; for some reason his leg had a huge ass bandage around it his head making it difficult to walk, confining him to their small apartment.

"Hey Feliciano," he called, "where's my cell phone?" It had just occurred to him that he hadn't gotten it back yet, and he could've sworn that it was in his pocket on the day of the accident.

His brother didn't reply to him, stirring up Lovino's suspicion. He called him again, and finally Feliciano peeked his head around the door, expression sceptical. "Um, maybe you should…" he stopped and sighed, and entered the room begrudgingly. "Here," he said, and reached into his back pocket. His heart broke a little when he saw his older brother's expression as he took the iPhone into his hands, the screen smashed to absolute pieces. He left the room, not wanting to see his face when he saw that it no longer turned on. Sure, it was the old, original model, but it had been a gift from their grandfather before he passed away. He removed the cover and found it to be completely flattened. It was probably beyond salvaging at this point.

He lay on his back for a while, staring at the ceiling and thinking about nothing in particular. When you're bedridden, you think about a lot of things, and eventually you run out of things to think about. A friend of his had visited him in the hospital, but aside from that, the two of them didn't have many other outside contacts. Inside, he was wondering what took Antonio so long to show his stupid face at his door and make him feel better the way he always did.

Crap, now he was stuck thinking about that idiot. His lips twitched as the memory of their kiss flashed in his memory. He swallowed and sat up a bit, his mind reeling as he touched his lips, and it felt like it had happened only yesterday. He really needed to talk to that idiot and figure all this shit out before it got out of control. Well, more out of control than it already was, with him being the most confused person on the planet - as much as he wants to say he's an expert in love, no amount of Girlfriend magazines will help you in real life.

"Lovi, you have a visitor," came Feliciano's voice. He didn't reply, but Lovino was glad that someone bothered to show up, regardless of who it was. Hell, it could even be that German loser and he wouldn't care, because he felt like the biggest burden on the planet to his younger brother and having Ludwig around would definitely lighten his atmosphere. Over the past week, he'd stressed an enormous amount over the wellbeing of his older brother, rushing here and there preparing food and whatnot, and even getting (another) part-time job at a restaurant in order to save up money for the impending hospital bill. But he had that wishing feeling, deep in there somewhere, that it was Antonio who was going to come through the door and into his room.

His stomach lurched a bit as Francis' voice floated throughout the house, before he entered the room. "Hey," he said, sitting on the chair next to the bed. Lovino remained stone-faced, but the Frenchman didn't care, proceeding to talk about this and that and other idle chatter, obviously not really caring either but merely trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm going to work now, Francis, will you be okay by yourself?" Feliciano asked. Yeah, ask him and not me, Lovino thought bitterly. The blond nodded, and Feliciano set off for his night shift after giving his thanks to Francis.

Great, so this French douche was his _babysitter_?

The two drifted into uncomfortable silence, which Lovino can stand when he's by himself, but not when he's with another person. Especially when the other person isn't someone he particularly likes. "Why are you here?" he asked, and closed the lid of his laptop. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Francis scoffed, "You have no idea how much I'd rather be here than somewhere else. You wouldn't know how great it would be to be lying in bed having someone who loves you looking after you, rather than being left on a battlefield fighting against a person you'd rather be friends with," he said, voice bitter, "humans sure have it easy."

"I wasn't asking for you to get all emotional and shit on me, fucker," Lovino retorted, "don't compare your life to mine, we both know they're things that can't be compared in the slightest."

"…Yeah, you're right."

Francis's admission took Lovino by surprise, and he turned his head and looked at him curiously. He was expecting the other to be stubborn and have some kind of argument to fill the time, rather than be so easy to defeat in clearly one of the stupidest quarrel's he's had in a long time. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"I'm just a lonely old man," he said, sighing dramatically. "Now I have no friends here in America," he complained, staring out the window, "well there's Arthur and Alfred, but they hardly count. After centuries knowing each other, I'm still just that annoying next door neighbour." The second half of his sentence was more him talking to himself than to Lovino.

The brunet perks slightly, expression confused. "What do you mean? Where's Antonio?"

Francis stared at him, "He's gone, didn't you know?" he asked.

Lovino blinked, "Excuse me, what?" he asked. "Gone where?"

"He went back to Spain, didn't he say anything to you? Didn't Feliciano, or even Ludwig?" He saw he look on Lovino's face, and immediately regretted bringing it up. Obviously nobody had told him, and he didn't want to be the one who had to break the news to him. He knew that Lovino would take it almost as badly as he did, if not harder. Because at least with Francis, he had all the time in the world to catch up.

"Little fucker," he breathed, "nobody told me a thing." He fell into a silence, not replying to anything Francis said or asked him, and eventually the blond took his leave. It was close to three am when Feliciano returned, and he was surprised to find the light in Lovino's room still on, his brother sitting up against the wall, a laptop under his hands.

"Not sleeping?" he asked, a cup of tea in his hands. When Lovino looked up, he felt remorse as his brother looked extremely tired.

"No, not yet. I'm in a.. a very intense conversation with Raivis," he lied. He was sure that not even his brother, being the huge idiot he was, would fall for that pathetic excuse of a lie. But whether or not he did, he'd never know, because Feliciano merely smiled and told him to sleep soon before turning into his own room. He swallowed – he was the worst brother ever. He was the older one, the one who should be working hard to look after the younger, not the other way around. He felt like a failure as the older sibling.

He bit his lip as he pressed the left click button on his mouse. "I'm sorry," he said, before shutting of the laptop and turning out the lamp.

When Feliciano woke up the next morning, he went straight into his older brother's room to ask him what he wanted for lunch. His problems began when the bed was empty, and an exercise book was left on the pillow. He snatched it up, eyes wide as he read the note.

"Lovino Vargas, you're fucking dead."

-x-

"Ready?" Francis asked Lovino as he piled into the back of the Frenchman's BMW.

"No, I came here at five thirty in the morning forgetting half of my belongings, I'm sorry but we'll have to go back, and probably face the wrath of my psychotic younger brother," he said, rolling his eyes. "Move it."

The blond snorted, and stepped on the pedal. "Cut the cheek, dear. Do remember that I'm paying for a last-minute business class flight to all the way to Madrid for you? It's not exactly a two hour shift at the supermarket."

"Okay, that has got to be the biggest amount of bullshit I've heard in my life," Lovino said, "you're a fucking country, immortal and shit. Two hours at a super market to you will probably equate to like, three months to me. Not to mention your country's economy."

"Hey, I can't just dip into the money of my people whenever I want to," he sniffed, looking over his shoulder.

"I'm sure you don't," Lovino smirked, "with this car, and that house of yours, and god knows what else you have back home. My point is, you can help out a guy once in a while, right? I'm sure this isn't even money you'll miss for a second."

Francis scoffed, ignored the question and focused his eyes to the road. "So you know where you're going, right? You're completely aware of how this works, and what we're doing."

"…Not really."

The remainder of the drive to the airport was Francis going over their extremely slapdash plan: Francis would ask to meet up with Antonio for some reason or another – presumably for 'work' or whatever they called it, but instead of Francis, Lovino would go. They would then reconcile, probably have a small and pointless argument, talk it out and then do whatever the fuck came after people make up.

"Then you'll proclaim your undying love for him, and you two will become the cutest couple to grace the earth," Francis joked, a smile playing on his lips.

"You fucking wish," Lovino would spit back, but wondered in the smallest crevice of his mind as to how he'll deal with the annoying as shit things he had called feelings.

It seemed simple enough. If his life was a movie, he felt that this would be the climax. The watchers would sit, wondering whether or not he'd make it to his destination to presumably proclaim his love (or whatever he was going to do) for that shithead on the other side of the globe. In the movies, it always worked out in the end, and there'd be a happily ever after or some shit.

But then again, in movies, something always went wrong.

As he sat in the airport lounge with Francis, the two in complete silence, he took the time to survey his actions. Here he was, flying across the globe with a guy he wouldn't classify as a friend and more like a molester while probably driving his too-kind younger brother to the side of the mental planet, but what for? What was he expecting to do when he finally does meet with Antonio? He wasn't sure if he felt the need to get back at the bastard for kissing him, to get even with him for making him confused or whatever, but he just felt like he had to do something. The bastard wasn't allowed to just leave him just like that, not after he'd been the most understanding person on the goddamn planet – for god's sake he was inhuman and he'd kept a sane head – but he still felt uneasy. It seemed like the most trivial reason to drag an uninvolved man into your personal and ridiculous matters.

"Hey Francis," he said, turning to him. "Why are you doing this for me?"

The blond turned, and thought for a moment. He smiled, and his eyes were actually fucking twinkling. "It's fun," he said simply. "Watching you two, that is. It's really, a lot of fun."

There was something though, about the way that he said that, that made Lovino uneasy. He knew that to Francis, this whole him-and-Antonio thing was a game, but now that he was serious, he felt that Francis was only mocking him. He knew what the older guy thought of him – he was just a human, trash, easily replaced and shit, but Antonio was his friend. A real friend, and he was watching his close friend walk off into what was his opinion one of the worst decisions a person could make; after all, he'd been there, done that. There was a hole in his vision, a gap in the reasoning and it left Lovino wondering day after day as to why Francis was still helping him – helping them. But inside, he felt that perhaps this was something he was better off knowing.

'_Attention, flight X-751 to Madrid will commence boarding from seats A-01 to C-39. Please proceed to the ticket gate to be che…'_

Francis held out his hand to Lovino, a coy smile on his face. "Ready?" he asked, gathering his luggage in his other hand.

Lovino hesitated. He lowered his head and smiled, before refusing the Frenchman's hand and getting up himself. "When was I not?"

But in reality, he felt like he had more insecurities than a teenaged high school girl.

|-x-|

**A/N: otllll I'm so sorry that I've procrastinated on this so much… after this is the last chapter (****and itll probably be really sloppy because I don't plan stuff at all cos im dumb)**** !  
umm the tense might change somewhere accidently, because I've been getting into writing in present tense recently (I need to work on keeping consistent dkfgf) ;;  
thanks for reading, im sorry for being late, and leave me some feedback? 8D; /sobsobs le runs**


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